The House to Myself

After Tony left, I had the house to myself for the weekend, which was nice for all of about five minutes, when I began to perk at the sound of leaves rustling, mistaking it for a screen door or the sound of voices that had filed the house just 24 hours before. I spent the weekend trying to convince myself that I had come all the way to Bangkok and the least I could do was leave the house, but the a/c was so inviting, the books so plentiful, the food fairy so punctual (Noo brought both my lunch and dinner while I was upstairs and so it seemed a plate of delicious food simply materialized when I came downstairs) and my options for entertainment, all a walk, boat, and cab/sky train ride away. I made it to the gym and to the store to drop off my film to be developed and even to the mall on Saturday night to check out to local English title bookstore, but overall spent the weekend reading and working on my paper for work. Once the house refilled with laughter, voices and slamming doors, I’d wished I’d had some more interesting weekend tales, but just found myself content to listen to their tales, looking forward to future trips of my own and simply happy to be among friends once more.