Caveman, Me

Stacy's family is in town to celebrate a couple of birthdays and to see Vicki perform in the Nutcracker this weekend. We offered our house instead of making them rent a few rooms. I love Stacy's family. They're thoughtful and kind houseguests that do their best not to impose.

However, whenever we have houseguests I get this overwhelming urge to retreat into my cave. I don't know what it is, some sort of primordial instinct to protect my space? That might explain why I started talking in grunts and flinging household objects at them before dragging Stacy down to the basement by her hair.

Note to self: apologize for the waffle-iron imprint on my brother-in-law's face.

I'm not sure where the vague uneasiness comes from, but I am sure that it is closely related to my innate shyness. I remarked to my mother-in-law about Zoe inheriting my shyness, to which she reacted in surprise. She didn't think I was shy, but very social. That's only true if the other party initiates, really. I will carry on a friendly conversation with just about anyone, as long as they're the one that started it.

Some of my friends may realize that even though I keep a constant online presence throughout my work week, I rarely IM them. It's not because I'm being aloof or too busy (although that happens a lot) but because I'm not an initiator. It's nothing conscious, I'm just solitary by nature.

I suppose I could force some self development by acting contrary to my personality, but I think I'd rather retreat back into my cave.

Ooo ooo oook!