This is not the first time I've lived alone, and it's not like I've never been alone before...but I'm not only roommate-less, but also single. The game has changed completely.
I've found a certain delight about an empty apartment, coming home to silent rooms, a clean kitchen (when I so desire), bathroom door that never closes and personal control of the tv and thermostat. Rushing home to my now furniture-less (besides the lawn chair and small tv) living room, to immediately discard unwanted pieces of clothing, e.g. pants and parking myself wherever and however I want, is the best part of my day. That moment of slight panic when that bout of last night's burrito ordeal wants to make an appearance vanishes when you live alone.
When you live alone, you can make really weird food combinations, and eat it sans judgment. Tuna straight out of the can? No problem. Room temperature? Even better. Scoop of pb followed by a hot pepper, it's your call! Any kind of alcoholic beverages can be consumed, and in whatever amount you so wish (despite this, I can't overcome the feeling of pathetic-ness if I get drunk by myself and I would probably end up crying on the bathroom floor). Another perk is the letting go of all dignity, letting it all hang out, not needing to suck it in all night, holding back toots, or wear appropriate clothing. Really, living alone brings out the beast in me....best of me?
Alongside those perks, as I've discovered, are the downsides, (a specific discovery prompted me to write this). Can you guess which one?
Living alone means you won't notice if you have a blueberry smoothie mustache for four hours. It means you start watching a rash of 70's films, and finding yourself relating to the characters more than people you interact with daily. Sometimes it means living off oatmeal and yogurt because cooking whole meals makes too many leftovers and you don't like the pressure of having all that food in your fridge. Its just a reminder of how few people live there, when the fridge is packed and things slowly go to waste. (I'm not a big leftovers fan, so maybe that's really a side issue).
But overall, living alone makes you talk to yourself more, internally or verbally. I find myself watching movies and enjoying them, and then I reflect upon the movie and decide its best I am alone, as my taste in movies might be questionable to the average movie buff. I find myself pondering life more, laying in bed staring at my ceiling, just listening to the quiet of my place. Only occasional chirps of birds interrupt, and I realize that I've spent a good hour not doing anything productive...and that makes me feel good too cuz there's no one around to say, "Uh, Ann...you should stop staring at your ceiling. Also...put on some pants".
Next phase of living alone is a mystery to me. All I know now is that there's no one else to take out the garbage, I maybe might just have to eventually clean my own mess up, and my neighbors next door might be slightly traumatized with the noises issuing from this apartment.
PS. I forgot the previous post was a sob fest of my feelings for my roommates leaving...guess I adjust faster than I so recently believed!
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