There is something satisfying about coming home to an empty house. Maybe it's just my independent will kicking in -- the part of me that likes to jangle keys and give rides and pull a debit card out of my wallet, even when there's only four dollars in my account. But it's sort of nice, stumbling in just after midnight, and finding myself in charge of turning off all the porch lights, of unloading the dishwasher, of locking the front door. There's a lot of fun to be had tiptoeing through a sleeping house, but being able to microwave leftovers or clang pots around for a fresh mug of tea is liberating. If I wanted, I could waltz downstairs at three, turn on NPR as loud as possible, and do a dance in my pajamas.

All of which is to say that my parents are out of town this weekend, and now that I'm not sick, it's marvelous. Forget partying, man. I'll just stay up late watching movies, pig out, and fall asleep on the futon. What a perfect way to begin a Sunday morning.

But at the same time, it's strange. The only reason it's refreshing is that it's different -- that now I don't have to worry about anyone being witness to my sleeplessness, that I'm not confined to the second floor where my footsteps are distant enough not to pull anyone out of sleep.

I can never decide if I enjoy empty houses because they mean that I will be undisturbed, or if I enjoy them because they are a kind of promise. I suppose if I came home to an empty house on a regular basis, it would only magnify my condition -- lights left on, emphasizing its desolation, my cat no longer alive to welcome me home or into bed. Just cold sheets and seconds passing on a digital clock.

Infrequency, however, makes empty houses easier. The emptiness, instead of becoming stale, swells with the idea that something might be there. Every barren room is a possibility. It becomes a matter of who will sit next to me on the couch, who will pull my pot of tea from the stove while I am upstairs reading, what sort of pajamas we will be wearing, how our voices will weave together and fill a room.