On My Fabled Hermitage
I know I always talk about how hermitty I am. How crowds and strangers bug me. How I wish I lived in the country with no neighbors or in the city with anonymity to protect me from all the skin-crawling social interactions that take place in driveways and yards.
But it’s all a bullshit dream, I think. I don’t think escaping into some Ted Kazcynski hole is the answer for me.
I mean, I teach classes. To people. In person. And I really like it.
Also, I’m inexplicably comfortable when it comes to public speaking.
Plus, how the hell do I ever make note of all these juicy tidbits involved in all the clutter that is Human Nature if I’m not around people?
So I’m here to stay, I guess. On this block, where I know most of my neighbors, who are all good, friendly, nice people that I’ll run into at the grocery or the YMCA or Walgreens. Where I can have a backyard potluck with my friends Amber and Travis with all my leftovers and garden vegetables. Where my sister lives three doors down, a perma-babysitter, for my kid and my dog, both, and with whom we share a lawnmower and snowblower.
Being alone only feels good when it’s a choice. Next time I get all misanthropic, remind me of this.