I like people.. I really do. They can be interesting and inspiring.. they sell me my groceries and fix my car and bring my mail and pay me for work and make me laugh and.. well.. you get the idea. But sometimes, without any reason and without warning.. they make me crazy. When I go to bed at night.. I think about the next day and look for cracks in the plan where I can squeeze in some time alone.
I’m not sure this is natural. All I know is that I crave, plan for and then protect my solitude as though my life depends on it.. because.. I think, at least in my case, it does.
This sounds too dramatic.. but it’s the truth.
I could easily turn into a recluse — a recluse with a job, five children and two grandchildren. Let’s see.. how would that work? I know! I could be an exclusive recluse. I would call myself an excluse or a rexclusive.
Hmm.. come to think of it.. I’ve been doing this for years.
I think what’s happening is I’m on people overload. Too many of them right now. My inner brat wants them to go away for awhile. Not forever. Just for awhile.