My alone time is better when I have a plan. I finally did my stretching and 20 minutes on the elliptical, and I'm going to do crunches when I finish this post. I just found my old workout journal from 2 years ago, that I only used for 8 weeks. I have resurrected it and intend to use it.

I'm with my buddy Glen about the alone time - I tend to have the computer on, and I check it every few hours. Then I find myself wondering why I don't go to the movies or for a hike or out on the bike. Then I also ask myself why I don't create a coccoon, a warm loving nest in my home, so that I feel more grounded in the world. Somehow, somewhere I started believing that alone time should feel like an international coffees commercial. I should be sitting around in my robe, enjoying a cup of something wonderful that makes me feel like the calmest, happiest, prettiest girl in the world, with a cat curled at my feet and no doubts, fears, or worries. What a crock.

My good alone time involves getting things done that I've been avoiding. I get a tremendous sense of accomplishment from tackling the filing, deep cleaning the bathroom, and doing the laundry. Some may call it sick but I call it much-needed therapy. Positive action. Observable results.

Also, the minute I'm done exercising, I feel so much more positive. I think in this time of looming peri-menopause (don't freak, it hits us all), I owe it to myself to make exercise my primary drug of choice. Otherwise I can just feel my body turning to pudding. When my friend gets back from Iraq, if we can manage it, maybe we will add a walk into our time together. A walk with a friend would be something nice to look forward to, every other week or so.

I have never been able to hang out in bed. I have wished all my life that I could feel calm and not guilty for sitting around in bed, watching TV and eating bon bons as it were, but I can't. If I'm alone, I just keep running ideas through my head. Now, when there is someone else there, I can hang out a little longer. Maybe not a full "hangout", but at least some pleasant after-sex time. Then I still have to get up and get on with my little day.

I'm working through some giddiness, and though it's difcifult, I am enjoying it. The universe is trying to remind me, yet again, that patience is a virtue.

The island: When I moved, it was because it was just too expensive to own there. I had tried a big house, then the condo, and I was still paying out $1300 a month in mortgage and condo fees. My rent in Tacoma, including utilities and parking is $760. That's a ton of cash. I'm paying bills and stuff with it. It's good to get to the end of the month and have a couple bucks left over, instead of calling my parents to ask for enough to cover me. That didn't happen often, but often enough to make me feel awful. I'm way too old for that to be happening on a regular basis.

Why would I go back? Because it's my place. It's the place I grew up (as a teenager, working at camp, learning a lot about a lot), it's my community. When I'm sick, I know there is someone there. I can help other people. I understand the give and take of the island. The Island Will Provide, as it were. I feel like I've established myself in that community, I have a context there. It's just big enough to let me be me (except when I am an overt dork) and just small enough to wrap my mind around. If I could go back at an affordable rate, I would. But that is very difficult. The city is noisy, dirty, and a little too fast paced for me to want to live there permanently. I love the city, and would never diss it entirely, but I like to know I'll sleep safely and quietly on The Rock.

So I'm here, in T Town, and while I wait, I am making sure people on the island know I'm looking for a rental. Once the new housing development is built, several cheaper rentals will open up, and I want those owners to know I'm interested. In fact, I have to call someone today to see what they've got.

I'm going to do my crunches now, then I'll check email, then I'm going to shower. And, of course, then check email again. After all, this is alone time.