I walked through the door, there were no cars in the driveway so I figured I was home alone. The cat was waiting for me at the door- I could see her furry little outline through the glass next to the entryway. I have a habit of singing whatever song I last heard on the radio, only I'm singing to the cat, see, so I change the lyrics to be about the cat. In this particular instance I had just heard "Soul Meets Body" on the radio, and walked through the door crooning, "I want a cat ... with paws and whiskers ..." rather than "I want to live ..where soul meets body..." I thought I was terribly clever.
Only, I was not alone. Oh no. All my roommates but one, plus one of their special friends were sitting on the couches immediately inside the doorway. Staring at me, in surprise. You see, there had just been a drunken row between two of them, and one of them had driven off in a fury. They were all pretty wasted, and they were nervously waiting, hoping he'd come home soon. And in saunter I, singing obliviously to the cat ...
Living by myself for so long, I developed the habit of blaming my practice of talking to myself on the cat. Yammering away to myself is sort of sad and weird. Yammering away to the cat is just nice, right? Only it's still pretty embarassing if you're doing, and don't realize someone else is listening in.
I have readjust to socializing amongst humans, I suppose.