Sometimes I like to pretend I’m a famous columnist who makes so much money writing that he can write philosophical and clever columns from the den of my country house, a cup of coffee steaming beside the typewriter; under a coaster of course.  

I sit and ponder what I will write and decide to begin the column with my signature words:  

“As I sit here pondering…”

Now, my house is not an extreme contrast by any means. We live in a subdivision but it is what you might call a rural subdivision. Our backyard backs up against a farm field recently harvested of corn and looking clean as a whistle. The old farm that sits about a mile behind us has red barns, a flagpole, and a rooster that crows every morning.

Quaint, eh?

And as I sit here pondering, the first few crisp autumn breezes are blowing through the open windows as the air conditioner breathes a sigh of relief.

Oh boy, now he’s using personification.

For the past several days, I have been on my own; just me and the two troublesome mutts. The females in my life have been on a mini-trip to warmer climates, and I’ve been luxuriating in my aloneness somewhat.

Don’t get me wrong. I certainly am missing my girls. Being on your own is fun for a while, but as soon as the text messages start coming with videos of dolphin cruises and warm ocean waters, you feel a little left out and start missing the familiar family dynamic.

But I must admit, it’s a bit comforting to luxuriate in certain things one can do when you’re on your own.  

You can decide when to eat and what to eat, and if your meal times are unconventional, that’s OK because there’s no one there to protest or give an opinion of any kind.  

I have complete control of what to watch or what to listen to, and how long I can actually just sit and ponder without feeling bad about not doing yard work or taking out the trash.  

But perhaps the most luxuriating thing is keeping the house cold. I am hot-natured and sweat like a pig at the slightest hint of warmth. 

 In the summer, I crank the AC down when I’m alone. On this day, as the “first few crisp autumn breezes” cool down the house, I leave the windows open and snuggle down, hoping the dogs sleep in past 6:30 a.m. The window sills and floor are cold to the touch.  The house takes on a nice chill and I decide to dress in some ratty old “hang out” clothes I can layer in case the heat comes back. 

 The dogs bound around for a while – especially the large, hairy mutt who has found a degree of respite spreading out on the cool laminate floor over the summer.  

The smaller, short-haired dog hunches up as if he’s freezing to death and sits staring at me, wondering why he can’t crawl up next to me and snuggle into the blanket I just grabbed.

The girls are expected back shortly before dark, and I expect they will start shivering as soon as they walk through the doors.  They will entertain the idea of turning on the heat.  All of the blankets and lap quilts that are generally kept folded up near the family room will be called upon immediately. 

If any windows are even cracked, they will be shut immediately with a shudder.

I’m glad they’re home, but I can’t keep thinking it was fun while it lasted.