I once avoided Sister Solitude. I didn't want to be alone with my thoughts. I would find a television, a friend, or a phone call. In the past, even one of my most cherished pastimes, reading a book, could be a means to escape her quiet presence. An author may be physically absent, but their thoughts prove good company during the act of reading. All that to say, with two kids and an extremely budgeted schedule of time to myself (mostly stolen from sleep's embrace), today, a little solitude sounds pretty darn good. Oh, the error of youthful ignorance!
All right that's enough of that. Where's my pen and that outline?