My wife is out of town and so, for several days, I am living the life of a single parent. I had hoped it would be quieter than it has been and less stress-filled – I have a teenage daughter, so there is always drama – but that isn’t the case.

But I am now alone in my room, sitting with my back against the headboard and with Pluto lying quietly on the other end. While I miss the companionship of my wife, of course, I do enjoy this scene. I am working on my laptop which is on my lap, something Angela generally dislikes when she is in the room (unless she is also doing work in bed).

To my right on the bed, in the space where Angela would be, is a novel I am currently reading, another I would like to start reading, a printout of a story I saw on MSN on whether it is selfish for married couples to choose not to have children (and boy, do I envy them sometimes), and two stories I am reading for my critique group. On the table to my left is my signed copy of BEDLAM AT THE BRICKYARD, the notes for a magazine article I am working on and my cell phone -- thus, everything I need.

Our A/C went out for a couple of days last week and though it's repaired, I like keeping it comfortably warm in the bedroom so I can use the circulating fan sitting on the floor. The breeze is nice, the air isn’t too warm and the background white noise in soothing. (Angela hates that, too.)

I love reading or writing in this environment. I can generally shut out the world when I write, wherever I am writing. But in my bedroom with a laptop on my lap, the dog asleep, my daughters off doing something and not bothering me, and my books near – well, it is about as good as it gets when I am alone. Peaceful, though I miss the wife.

Good thing I only get this much peace and quiet a couple times a year. In time, the solitude would drive me crazy.

Thanks for reading and keep writing.