It's been another one of those weeks where nothing has really happened worth noting. My days off got changed, but only by one day. I've received some cool email from new journal readers (which I promise I'll respond to Quite Soon!) I'm finally feeling like I may have budged the novel forward by about half an inch--actually had one scene begin to flow. There've been no further sightings of suspicious vehicles in my area (as far as I know.) And I got my locks changed today--which I've been meaning to do ever since I moved in.

Now then, I'm enjoying being single (for the most part) and I really do love owning my own house and living by myself. I'm not the type to tolerate roommates well; I like knowing that if there's a mess, it's because I made it, and it's my responsibility to clean it up. (And I've actually been rather pleased with myself for keeping my house generally tidy.) However, there is that Single Woman Living By Herself thing that can be a bit unnerving at times. I live in a nice, safe, neighborhood, with attentive neighbors. But still, there will be times when I'm at home alone late at night and I'll hear a sound outside, and I'll hold my breath for a second, and listen very hard to see if it repeats, so I can identify it and dismiss it. Or I'll wake up, wondering what woke me up, wondering if I heard someone in the house, and I'll have to remind myself that my floors creak, and if anyone was walking around I'd know. And yes, I keep a loaded pistol in the house, and I have the security system with the panic button on it. Am I too paranoid? Perhaps. But I think that's a natural part of being a female living by yourself.

But still, it's unpleasant that I can get unnerved by a car driving slowly down the street, or a sound outside that is probably just a dog taking a leak on my gardenia. (I have a gardenia bush in my front yard that, I swear, every single dog in the neighborhood has peed on. I'm amazed this thing is still alive.)