Feeling: quiet
Listening to: Vienna Teng - Enough to Go By
Reading/Watching: Sword Singer, by Jennifer Roberson (ripping through these like comic books)

Leaving for dinner, I clearly remembered closing my closet doors and turning off the lights as I headed out the door with Quincy and Lydia.

Returning, I went into my room and my left closet door stood wide open.

I tried rationalizing for a couple hours, thinking of a million different reasons, but the basic fact was, I was alone in a dark empty apartment (Nimsay, come back soon), and getting steadily creeped out every time the air conditioner fluttered the vertical blinds, or someone on the upstairs floor walked across a room. (Go ahead and snicker, you know you want to.)

So I called several people, who didn't answer, before resorting to calling Satan* just for the comfort of another human voice. Telling him about my silly fear, I blurted, "I hate being alone in this place sometimes. I know it's stupid, but I really do."

He and Sith came over to finish watching Season 1 of Buffy, and despite his jokes about hauntings, he still checked my closet three times. The final time, before leaving, I followed him into my room and he stood there, paying a bit too much attention to the closet's contents, rather than the doors, before turning to me and saying, "You're going to be fine tonight."

It's odd, how I'm letting that be comfort enough. But our goodbye hugs are getting shorter.

Satan*=Geoff, now with official nickname

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