The change is so sudden it's almost uncomfortable. For weeks, months, (years?), life has been coming at me in waves: waves of projects, waves of people, waves of huge goals to accomplish, small tasks going undone. I crave quiet, alone time. I want the world to turn off. Suspended animation would be nice.
And then, it all drops away. My book is done. The holidays are over. The snow has melted. The guests have gone, and taken my husband with them. The cat remains, but she's been jaded by not enough attention and barely needs me. I am free! I tell myself. Free to do anything I want!
Day 1: I accomplish most small chores ignored too long. I celebrate with a home-cooked gourmet dinner for one, including my favorite cocktail, a sake-tini with cucumber. This is living, all right.
Day 2: I nap. I read. I nap. I read. I nap. At 5:30 I realize I haven't brushed my teeth. I decide to wait until bedtime. Why waste toothpaste now? No one has to see or smell me.
Day 3: I try to read a new book, having finished the old one. It bores me. So I think. A lot. About Everything. Ad infinitum and nauseum.
Day 4: I'm bored. TV is stupid. I eat strange things, like crackers with cream cheese and jelly, and steamed cauliflower.
Day 5: I think of all the things I was going to do this week: revamp my workout plan, clean my office, do taxes. I shudder at the thought of any of those things. I make as many social plans as possible.
Day 6: I go out into the world, coffeeing, lunching, cocktailing, dinnering. By the end of it all, I crave quiet alone time.
Day 7: My husband comes home (and I've never been so glad to see him). I'm asked to participate on a project. I realize other projects are now screaming for my attention. And the next book? I need to start thinking about that . . .
Such is the life cycle of a person who sits centered on the dividing line of the Meyer Briggs Introvert/Extrovert scale. It is what it is.
What is there to do, but begin again?