Alone... or not
I dropped one of my housemates off at the airport on friday, and the other left on saturday morning. Gave me pretty much the whole place to myself, and I took the opportunity to clean up. Although it wasn't totally gross, I do feel much more comfortable now without spots on the kitchen floor and occasionally stepping on pebbles in the carpet. The most substantial change was really just putting things away. The place just looks incredibly cleaner when the magazines are on the bookshelf instead of on the desk, even though that really has no influence on the amount of dust or bacteria hanging around.

So I'm cleaning up when I hear the doorbell ring thrice, which was incredibly strange since we almost never have visitors, and most visitors knock instead of ringing the doorbell, and if any normal person rang the doorbell, once would suffice. It was a scene straight out of a mystery novel, I couldn't see anyone through the peephole.

I opened the door, cautiously, expecting some practical joker to be hiding around the corner, but there was none. There was just a Canada Post package lying on the welcome mat, addressed to me. Now generally I'm a firm believer of waiting till Christmas morning to open one's presents. However, since I couldn't confirm that it was really a present, I opened the package to see what was inside.

It was, in fact, my first Christmas present this year, from Toronto. Now it was kinda odd. I was at the same time pretty much overjoyed with the peace of being home alone, yet glad that I didn't really feel alone. Most everyone values their friends, but in my life, the friends that last, even not seeing each other for months or years, are really blessings from God.