As most of y’all have probably figgered out by now, I’m a 30-something ol’ spinster lady who lives by herself with a cat. Now, don’t get me wrong, I do love my dear sweet Chuckweasel to oodles and pieces… but there IS something to be said for having a “S.O” (significant other) who does not “L.I.” (live-in)!
So, without further ado, I present: The Benefits of Living Alone.
- The bathroom door is a matter of CHOICE.
- Both the remote control and the thermostat are MINE, bitches.
- All leftovers fall under my domain. If there’s Chinese food when I leave for work, there will still be Chinese food when I get home.
- I can eat in both the bed and the bathtub without getting any shit for it (although the bed will narc you out if you’re not careful).
- 3 words: Twix. For. Breakfast.
- 3 more words. Popcorn. For. Dinner.
- I don’t have to bust my ass cleaning house until it’s so funky I can’t stand it… and I can stands me some funk.
- I can drink wine out of a coffee cup without embarrassment.
- If someone farted, it was me. Or sometimes Calpurnia Jean (if that happens, RUN).
- I can crank up the iPod and do my patented “Never-Was-a-Cheerleader-But-Damn-Wouldn’t-I-Have-Been-A-Good-One” dance routines without being interrupted by laughter. (You don’t know from talent, Chuckweasel!)
And an extra-special “Why Does She Tell Us This Stuff?” bonus: If I think my feet may smell, I can check without trying to be smooth about it.