The longest I have ever lived alone is four months. Before that I lived with a husband, after that I lived with a roommate. Now, I'm living alone again in my very first apartment. It's been three and a half months. All by myself.
The last time, I was too busy re-learning how to take care of myself to focus on the alone part. This time, I feel like little Macaulay Culkin running around in my underwear, screaming and waving my arms in the air. I can do whatever I want! I can eat lunch for breakfast and dessert for lunch and breakfast for dinner! I have no bedtime, no curfew, and no rules. I realize I haven't had those things for roughly 15 years (ouch), but for some reason, now, it feels different.
It's weird not having to be considerate of anyone else. I mean, I don't have to apologize to anyone when I leave a few dishes in the sink or my mail on the counter. It's okay if I wait until the last possible minute to empty and reload the dishwasher. I can wait to take out the trash until the bag is busting at the seams. And this one time, I finished the toilet paper roll and I thought to myself, "I need to put on a new roll. Wait, I'm the only one who uses this bathroom. I can put on a new roll next time. Whoa, I can put on a new roll next time! I'm gonna walk out of my bathroom without putting on a new roll. I feel so free!
They say it's the little things in life. I think they are right.