I’m alone as I type this. My solitude isn’t quite solitude, though. Here in my office with me are two dogs. One cat just walked out of the room, while the other cat is upstairs. She’s with my wife, who mostly works from home. Our son is in his bathroom, listening to music at a fairly punishing volume. Like I said, my solitude isn’t solitude, per se. Years ago, though, the solitude was very real. I’m not so old that I don’t remember that lousy one bedroom apartment in Tacoma, Washington. There was a feeling of being the only person in the complex, despite the neighbors above, below,... Read More