I’m not as neat as I thought I was. Turns out my obsession with having an organized apartment was merely a ruse to guilt my roommates into cleaning up after themselves. I don’t mind my messes – just theirs.
I have the internal clock of a small child. I’m wide awake at 6 am, desperate for a nap at 2 pm, and flop into bed at 8 pm.
It’s okay to have a banana for dinner. Yep.
I like to eat standing up. I sit all day, so why not stand while gobbling up a bowl of cereal or slurping down noodles with butter and cheese?
TVs are dumb. I have one, but without someone to watch shows with, it has become an ugly, plasma eyesore. My TV sits silently in the corner, gathering dust and patiently awaiting the next season of The Bachelorette when it will once again play a central role in my life.
If I don’t get married and have kids, I will absolutely become a crazy candle lady. I’m not a big fan of cats… but candles! They’re sexy. Candles smell like fucking holiday cheer, give any room that “Martha Stewart touch”, and add an air of romance to even the most unkempt apartment. Also, I may have some worrisome tendencies towards pyromania.
I would do anything (like, terrible things) to avoid taking out the trash. What a smelly, heavy, irritating chore that is. I think I’d marry a Republican if it meant he’d lug my garbage the 20 feet from my kitchen to the sticky hallway trash shoot.
Vacuuming makes me sweaty. It’s hard work lugging that clunky appliance around my apartment – and I have less than 600 square feet to deal with! I can’t even imagine living in a house. With stairs. Anyway, it’s one of my least favorite chores, but not vacuuming isn’t even an option. Those tumbleweeds of hair drifting across the bedroom floor aren’t going to vacuum themselves.
Life is expensive. When you’re splitting bills and sharing space, a pricey apartment feels manageable. As soon as you’re bearing the burden by yourself, every single trip to the grocery store becomes an exercise in frugality. I’m trying to get the most healthy food for the least amount of money, without it going bad, while also making sure it lasts more than a day in my fridge.
I’m okay with me. I used to feel anxious when I wasn’t in the company of at least one other person. I was dependent on others to make me happy. Now that I’m all by myself, some introverted characteristics have slipped in and I cherish my alone time. It’s a very freeing way to be.