I’ve just enjoyed a dinner of grilled chicken and homemade potato salad – thank god I finally learned to use our grill -- and have indulged in the first two very funny episodes of Sex and the City, when the phone rings. Again, it’s B – which means another night of Buffy. This is good thing. There’s no such thing as too much Buffy.

When B leaves that night I’m suddenly conscious of the fact that I’m very much alone in the house, and it’s quiet, and dark. My little house suddenly seems very big, and full of secret nooks and shadowy corners hiding who knows what. The robbery next door has me feeling just a bit paranoid, and so I triple check all the locks and deadbolts, leave the front light on outside, pull the shades shut just a little more securely, turn on the TV to keep me from obsessing over all the little odd sounds that sometimes creep in from outdoors. Just before getting into bed, I think to grab the cordless phone, and leave it within easy arm’s reach of where I sleep. I sleep poorly, every creak, rumble and scratch that night sending my imagination into a frenzy.

day 3
Lingering in bed on a Sunday morning isn’t nearly as enjoyable when you don’t have someone to share it with; I spend an hour or so re-reading one of my favorite books, Laurie Colwin’s Happy All the Time, then get out of bed to take a shower. Sunday morning strikes me as the perfect time to sneak out for a matinee, but alas, the movie offerings look slim, and the only movies I’m really dying to see are movies I know my sweetie wants to check out as well. Which is how I find myself sitting in a dark room full of women of all ages, shapes and sizes, waiting for the Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood to start up. The movie’s every bit as mediocre as I expect – not a chance of crying on my part, though I hear a fair number of sniffles in the dark – but I always get such a minor kick out of being the only girl sitting in the theatre without friends or significant other that it doesn’t really matter what’s on the screen.

day 4
It’s back to work on Monday, though I take a nice long break to meet my friend C for lunch. Between C’s crazy single-girl life and our usual all-over-the-place discussions on everything from politics to relationships to books, it’s some good girl-bonding time.

Later that day: It’s official -- I have a new TV show addiction. Back at the video store, I make a beeline for the first season 2 Sex and the City DVD. Go home, fix myself up a quick but tasty meal of fettucine with smoked salmon. Truthfully, Sarah Jessica Parker’s Carrie Bradshaw, and really her three friends as well, drive me nuts: I can’t help but think that they make relationships a whole lot more complicated than they have to be. But it’s sort of like watching a train wreck: I’m totally riveted. Plus, the show makes me laugh.