When we were growing up, sleep overs were plenty. Now that I am too old to be true, sleeping over at someone else’s place with lots of people crammed into the same house , somehow turns my stomach.
I can perfectly well put up with strangers, in that their presence is not a big deal, I can still keep to myself.
But I feel all claustrophobic crashing in with a lot of relatives. The kids want to talk, the adults want to know about your married life, I already feel a little nauseated.
I am not too hot about crowds. I have a time limit at the end of which I get a mad urge to go home and get into my shorts and go to bed with a book.
I am not too happy about having to be polite and nice all the time , wondering if my attire or my voice offends them, or about having to make small talk.
I am in that period of my life where I can live in exile for quite a while without needing the company of a lot of people to comfort me. I could be a hermit and be perfectly happy.
Do you know what I mean?