I am a pretty friendly, talkative person. (I also like to overshare, if you haven’t noticed.) That’s why people often don’t realize that I’m an introvert. I’m a “not-shy introvert.” That’s a real thing, by the way.
I love quiet. I attended a spiritual retreat a few weekends ago and one of the people commented that the “silence” component that lasted about half of the second day was difficult for them. I thought that I would like to see how long I could remain still and silent. I figured I could go at least a week. I’ve got no problem with stillness and silence. In fact, the problems usually start when those things are not there.
That’s why this year with Olivia starting kindergarten and Marc having a job is so remarkable for me. Each morning I have the house to myself and I can do whatever I like. So what do I do? I sit on the couch in the living room every morning and I do my school work. Yesterday I had the soundtrack to Pride and Prejudice going… all day on repeat. Today I thought I might listen to the new Mumford and Sons while I read my textbook. But no. I didn’t want any noise. Just me, my couch, my textbook, and the view out our living room window.
Last year I would get one morning every two weeks to myself. It was especially glorious because it only happened twice a month. One of those mornings to myself, Marc came into the living room and started dancing to the music I had on. I said, “No! No! This is my morning. There is no noise; there is no movement. I get to have things as I like, and I want them calm.” He stopped dancing, and I think he left for the library as soon as possible thereafter.
I like quiet. And with three kids and a loud-talking and walking husband that doesn’t happen much. But it’s something I need. And it’s the way I am rejuvenated.
P.S. As I was typing this post, Marc came home for lunch. He immediately put on the new Mumford and Sons. “For your benefit — you haven’t heard it yet!” he said. Then at one point he was dancing on the carpet in the living room to the music.
Not annoying (this time). Just ironic.