Simple Life:The joys and sorrows of living alone

I love my apartment. I have plenty of room for just me and my expected/unexpected guests.  I face east so that means sunshine early in the morning.  Sunshine motivates me to get up.

I’ve always loved living alone more than living with someone else, no matter how well I get along with the other person.   I love the independence of doing what I want, whenever I want to do it.  Everything is under my control – when I do the dishes, where my stuff goes, what hangs on the walls, what covers the windows, what shower curtain hangs in the bathroom.   I get to talk to myself out loud if I want to.  I get to say nothing at all, all day long. 

At night, I like that during that time of the month when I’m in pain and just want to curl up into a ball and go to sleep, I can do that.  

My apartment is quiet.  I like it that way.   My apartment is my home.  My apartment is my hiding place.  My place is where my dreams, thoughts and wishes happen.  My apartment is where I can listen to stupid pop songs and classical music and watch cartoons at 3am, if I want to.

And as of late, my apartment is my favorite place to be when I’m with the people I love.I’m starting to warm up to that idea: to invite others into my home.  I know, it sounds silly but I’ve always been used to separating MY place from the rest of the world.  I used to treat it like a tree house that nobody else knew about.  A castle you could only see if I gave you the secret password. 

I like my place because it’s a lot like me.  I like to live alone because I feel more like myself when I can manage my living space

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But, like anything, living alone has its sorrows.   I have to do all of the cleaning, all of the cooking, all of the shopping, the laundry on my own.  I have to clean the litter box, check the mail, pay the bills all on my own.   And if I’m sick, I have to go for a walk to grab tissues and medicine at the pharmacy.  I’m on my own to go to the doctor, the dentist, the hospital.

Living alone means not having anyone there to share the load of tasks, or to take care of me.  Not that I need to be taken care of, but I think there’s a part inside all of us that really doesn’t mind if a roommate or lover takes out the trash once in a while or picks up pain killers at the pharmacy when you most need them.  If it’s with a lover, it also means a hug, a caress. If it’s a roommate, it means the presence of someone else in case something goes wrong or when things go right.

I have met people who can’t live alone.   They just can’t imagine not having someone there sharing the space with them.  I’ve always been the opposite.  There are times when I’ve enjoyed sharing a space with someone else, especially with my sister.  We lived together couple of years and for the most part, it worked out well.  But, I thrive on my own.

But, then there are these little instances when I wish there was a quiet someone nearby.  I don’t want to talk, I don’t want to do anything.  I just want a quiet someone.  There, on the couch.