Ever dance in your underwear?

Have you ever arrived home and found no one there, and instantly felt that gleeful strip-down, dance-in-your-underwear sort of freedom? If you haven’t, then I’m not sure what planet you’re from. Anyone who lives alone gets to bask in the glory of this feeling on a daily basis. Those with family or room mates may rarely experience this – that’s the boat I find myself in.

But today I came home and nobody was there. After what felt like an excessively long day of work, but was probably nothing more than usual, I walked into a silent house. I’m giddy just thinking about it. I ran upstairs and folks, the clothes came off. I’m not trying to be lewd or suggestive – I’m trying to explain the pure joy of it. It hit 90 some degrees (F) today. I needed it.

I hope you understand what I’m talking about. I feel bad for you, deep in my heart, if you don’t. It’s the definition of freedom. Not only the panty-dancing. The silence, the solitude. It’s like crack cocaine. Freedom. Nobody’s going to come ask you to use your car. Nobody’s going to hand you a crying baby. Nobody’s going to need to be cleaned up after. Nobody is there to start lengthy conversations that just never end. It’s just you, your underwear, more time than you know what to do with, and possibly Netflix.

Crack cocaine, I tell you.

 

Edit: found a list of songs to dance to in your underwear if you were looking for one of those

 

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find me at www.facebook.com/nothingwassaid

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