I've never lived alone. EVER.
I've always had roommates or husbands or children.
It never really occurred to me to live alone. Why in the world would I want to do that?
I'm a people person and it would be so desolate, lonely, forlorn.
It's a strange thing -this single life. The solitude. The quiet. The eerie calm.
I've been living like a bachelor.
The sink is full of dirty dishes.
My shoes kicked off in the hallway.
Empty coke cans are piling up on the coffee table.
I eat leftover pizza for breakfast and a bowl of popcorn for dinner.
Two days worth of unread newspapers and unopened mail cover the table.
I watch whatever I want on television and don't replace the toilet paper roll.
I sleep in the middle of the bed with no worries about being woken up by someone in the middle of the night.
After the past year of solo parenting and commuter marriage-ing, I've been in desperate need of an escape.
I need time to do nothing. To do whatever I want.
To take care of no one. To stay up late and sleep in and take a nap if the mood strikes me.
To get lost in a book. To window shop.
It's energizing-this being alone.
But I wouldn't want to live this way.