For the first time in a while, I’m by myself in a functional house, revisiting what it’s like to be solo for a night.

Read: the boys are out camping and I can eat whatever I want and don’t have to share.

While the Bremerton house is torn up (so it feels), the Port Townsend house is quite settled and cozy.

But mostly what I’m interested in remembering what it’s like to only be responsible for myself for an evening.

I got to work as late as I wanted (well, I was on a major deadline today but that seemed to soften as 5 p.m. approached, so I relished in the luxury of tweaking the project as much as I could until 6 p.m.).

I already had my meal planned – I’d been looking forward to it for a week – portobello mushroom and chicken sausage cooked in a tomato sauce with spinach, topped with very strong parmesan cheese. And I didn’t have to share it with anyone! But I wanted to make rice to go with it. Which meant I had to figure out the rice cooker.

Note: I can barely cook rice on the stove to save my life. I’ve barely been successful with the oven method. Tonight though, I figured if I couldn’t cook rice in that stupid lidded pot with a few buttons, there would be no hope for me.

While I waited for the rice to finish, I cleaned the dishes, then pulled a method of Mom’s and left the warm soapy sink of water full so I could wash as I cooked. And then decided to clean out the fridge. I’d been living in PT long enough to know pretty much what was what in my Bachelor Boyfriend’s fridge and what could go.

Of course, mindlessly scrolled the socials. Was reminded of a book that was released last week by Molly Wizenberg (“The Fixed Stars”) and remembered that I’ve been craving to read something that wasn’t political, civic, social, psychology or environmental.

Given the budget is tight, I happily found it on my library app.

SO, I had my “me” meal cooking, rice steaming, my book, KEXP in the background and a very easy slow pace in the kitchen. And it struck me that a) this was a night I haven’t had in a while, and b) Solo Night at 41 looks a little different but not much from a Solo Night in my 20s.

The tangible items are different. The hair is grayer. Projects and intentions are different.

But cooking up a hearty meal with KEXP on and being perfectly content inside hasn’t changed much.