Alone time, whether self-imposed or induced by circumstance, can often be fairly refreshing, as opposed to depressing as some people will tell you. One must hail alone time as the elixir for embattled souls and for those who’re as self-obsessed as certain people I know (yours truly included).
Whether you spend these glorious alone-hours indulging in tomfoolery or otherwise is merely a matter of personal choice (as ‘personal’ as choices can possibly be).
There are countless activities to choose from:
Making burnt egg-toast to satiate evening hunger, while dancing not-so-gracefully around the pan.
Wearing clothes with a colour combination that has the potential to cause blindness.
Watching movies rich in nonsensical content in entirety, and preparing to criticise them later.
Sending countless emails to friends who’re definitely busy at the time.
Telling yourself that you need to get back to work and not doing so at all.
Continuing to prance around the room.
Identifying the source of strange sounds emanating from certain corners of the house, just to make sure one is indeed alone.
Indulging in time travel (of the imaginary sort of course).
Sleeping and waking with particular disregard for dawn and dusk.
Not being busy at all but grumbling at the sound of the doorbell.
Losing oneself in the pages of a book and resurfacing only when the world comes searching for you.
…I’m sure there are those who use their time (whether alone or otherwise), rather judiciously (a term stubbornly closed to interpretation).
However, it is of no concern to me and neither should it be to you.
Suffice it to say that ‘tis surely a treat and luxury to be unnoticed and unheard, though only for a while.
And imagine what great potential something must hold when it is best described thus:
What you do on your own time is nobody’s business.