'Til The Cows Come Home

Me Time

Last night, via Instant Messenger, a friend asked what my Friday night plans were. I replied that I was going to spend the evening at home, by myself. The response that I got back was: "boo. well i guess you're entitled to some me time."

Damn right I'm entitled to some me time! I've been out nine nights in a row, be it bar-hopping, at the theater, or at dinner with friends. Last weekend I was hosting A. from Philly, which meant not a minute to myself (but oh, the minutes we spent were fabulous). Add in the fact that it looks like I'll be at the office for a most of the afternoon on Sunday, cutting into the already few and precious weekend hours, and some "me time" tonight becomes all the more necessary.

There's something decadent about taking a Friday night and indulging in some private time while the rest of the city bustles with weekend activity and outrageousness. The last time I can remember doing so was during the winter, when I cooked dinner for myself and happened upon The Philadelphia Story on cable. I had never seen the film and, accompanied by a few glasses of wine, it made for a gem of an evening.

Tonight, I plan to leave work, stop at the grocery store, go home, cook dinner, maybe play some video games (my new PlayStation is sadly underused), read some of my new book, or watch a movie. Perhaps I'll sit at the window for a while and watch the city from across the East River, as the skyscrapers fade in and out of the rainclouds, and listen to some music. Perhaps a bubble bath will be in order. Then, when K. gets home from the theater, we may watch some DVR'd Law & Order: SVU episodes (our new obsession), and I'll go to bed whenever I feel like it.

And if any of you want to join me...well, that's just too bad. Because it's Me Time, and you're not invited.