Table for one

It’s Sunday night. In my former life, the one where I had a kitchen, I used to love to cook on Sundays, have an impromptu dinner party or just have lots of leftovers for myself. When I had my first apartment in grad school, the Link and I started a Sunday night tradition of having each other over for dinner on Sundays. We’d take turns hosting and had one rule: each time we had to try a new recipe. I miss those days.

Being the kitchenless Little Ms. Notetaker that I am (although I am only about a week away from having a working kitchen, check out the progress I’ve made in the past week), I find myself at my favorite Seattle pub, dining alone, well, me and my laptop. Yep, I’m on a date with my laptop—heretofore the laptop will be known as Lenny. I’m not going to lie, I’m lonely, sorry Lenny but it’s true. Now, it’s not all the time and it’s not all that bad, but I’m getting tired of dining solo. My life is extremely full of cool activities and amazing friends, and most nights of the week I’m busy, but that busyness is just a front to the fact that I’m a little bit lonely.

Take for instance this weekend; I was a hermit (granted I was working on the kitchen pretty much non-stop). The only contact I had with the outside world were the trips I made to Home Depot and Lowe’s and then the few hours when my plumber stopped in. So tonight, after completing the HUGE task of tiling the kitchen, I forced myself to shower (yes, hermits don’t necessarily see personal hygiene as a priority), put on some cute clothes, and join world of the living.

So here I am, looking Seattle-cute, at my favorite place, with Lenny. Lucky for you, I have him here and am cranking out this, and future, posts. But unlucky for me, Lenny’s not much of a conversationalist. However, without Lenny (or a book, or magazine, or something) I cannot handle the solo dinner. I get so bored just sitting there eating, just me and my thoughts (hello, that’s what it’s like in my house so why bother going out to pay for that experience?). And I kind of hate the fact that I have Lenny here, because it makes me seem like I’m completely self-absorbed (okay, which I am), but nobody’s going to talk to me with Lenny here, and I’m PAINFULLY shy (it’s very true), and even though it would make my week if someone came up and talked to me, they won’t because I’m keeping them at bay with Lenny, and I’m keeping them at bay because I don’t want to be seen as that poor lonely girl eating out on her own. Ah, the vicious cycle.

So until I’m not solo, and/or until I can start hosting those impromptu dinner parties, looks like it’s me and Lenny.