Honey I’m Home
“Honey, I’m home!”
I called out into the darkness and turned on the lights to my apartment. I laughed at myself.
I have always lived alone as long as I can remember. Even when I was in a relationship, I don’t let my boyfriends sleep over. I cringe at the thought of living together with someone who I am not even sure will be with me for the long haul. But for years, every single day, upon opening my front door, I just say “Honey, I’m home.”
Is it pathetic? Maybe.
Besides, when you work long hours and late nights, you will never have a social life, much more a romantic relationship. I go out, sure. To do groceries or jog in the park. But only during the weekends. When the weather is perfect. Which is not all the time.
Today I can’t wait to go home. I was in the hospital for 16 hours because the new receptionist didn’t show up and I had to extend. Tired is an understatement. I feel like passing out.
“Honey, I’m home!” My hands groped the walls for the switch.
“I’m glad you are.”