Hello, Friend |
I have a great little place. A cottage behind a house attached to a garage. Kind of a glorified efficiency. Just the right size and very nice. But perhaps the most important feature of this cozy place is the remote control gas wood stove. Yep. Remote control. I walk in the door and turn it on when I get home from work. The flame that flickered on demand quickly became my beloved companion. A warm friend who's always ready to welcome me home at the end of the day. I also developed a much closer relationship with the tv. I've never been a huge tv watcher, but I will admit: The Voice can get kind of addictive.
My kitchen looks different, too. French bread. Red wine. Imported salami. Truffled sea salt. Arugula-at-the-ready.
But the biggest thing I've noticed about living alone is how little one XX (at least this XX) effects the environment. When I get home at night, MY HOUSE IS EXACTLY LIKE I LEFT IT. Not a dish in the sink. Not a thing out of place. Not a noise to be heard (until I turn on the tv.) No spills or stains to be discovered. No piles of dirty clothes to trip over. No "mysteriously" un-flushed toilets. No toothpaste drips in the sink. Who knew? I'm a neat freak.
Dinner of Champions and one XX |
Yes, I have done it. I have lived alone. I have survived for 8 1/2 weeks on one roll of paper towels, one bar of soap and a dozen eggs. I survived the realization that I was talking out loud to myself as I watched tv. (Was it The Voice or Law & Order? I can't remember. Oh come on, I can't believe you can't remember...) I survived when there was nothing to clean, no dog to let outside, and no one complaining or bickering or fighting.
I hope he doesn't get car sick |