By this point in time, with three solo months under my belt, I'm basically old hat at the whole free-bird, one-bedroom, all-to-myself thing. For the most part, it's totally awesome. 100% Liz-approved, about 98% of the time. The other 2% I chalk up to these long dismal dark afternoons and evenings, and the fact that I'm never really allll the way happy unless I have an audience for my incessant chatter. So there's that.
This living-alone thing, though, has pretty much spoiled me utterly for the day when my fantastic rent discount inevitably expires and I have to find a roommate. Or, God forbid, that far-off (very, very far-off) day in the future when I find someone who wants to cohabit and share everything, including a living space, with me for all time. Geeeez. I love being on my own. I love having total autonomy. And these, specifically, are the aspects of solo life that I love the most:
1. The bathroom countertop real-estate is unparalleled. My gummy vitamins can sit on the countertop so I don't forget to take them, I can leave my contact case out for days on end if I want, and if I'm too rushed to put away the straightener before work? Guess what! Nobody's going to need that six inches of counter space but me.
2. The fridge. It can be full of my parents' delicious leftovers or my BiteSquad takeout remnants or, for pete's sake, nothing but three bottles of Prosecco and a shit-ton of string cheese, and nobody will get on my case about how "we really need to keep actual food around." Even better, there's no worry about sharing fridge space with someone who might have an affinity for olives or mushrooms, or who lets the dressing drip down the side of the bottles in the doors, or doesn't watch their expiration dates.
3. The closet. It is ALL MINE. And the closet, as I have mentioned in the past, is essentially poetry in real estate/square footage form. If my closet were a poem, it'd be a Shakespeare sonnet because my closet, in all its big-ness, is essentially perfect.
4. If I feel like spending a random Tuesday night drinking chardonnay, giving myself a pedicure, watching "Gilmore Girls" and calling a bowl of cereal/a few handfuls of popcorn dinner, nobody can judge me and I feel zero need to justify my delicious waste-of-spaceness to anyone.
5. Similarly, if I feel like getting utterly lost in a book (so many good ones lately!), and not talking to anyone or even moving from my spot for at least five hours (aka until I've finished the great book), nobody gets to distract me.
6. All of my best starfishy sleeping tendencies? Yup. I sprawl across my bed like it's nobody's business. We're talking limbs in EVERY CORNER. And both pillows, and covers burrito'd around me in the very coziest way. My quality of sleep is at an all-time pinnacle lately.
7. Christmas totally happened starting on November 15th. No shame, and no Thanksgiving purists to say no. At least, none that got to come home and get all up in my space about it. Respect the festivities.
8. There's something to be said for knowing that, when I get home, I won't be walking into any kind of a situation I don't know about. Nobody will have had a terrible day. There won't be a random gathering of people that I wasn't expecting. Nobody's going to be there waiting to make demands of my time and energy. I can just open the door and know that I get to decompress now.
9. If I want the mantel to look a certain way, it's going to look that way. If I want the flowers on the coffee table versus the windowsill, they're going on the coffee table. If I want my decorative tea towels to go on the oven door handle, then, naturally, that is where they will be. My little decorating-homemaker heart could about burst with that satisfaction.
10. There will never be a situation in which I feel the need to get away from my home to get away from the situation. I did that a lot at my old apartment...the source of all my anger and frustration and sadness would be in my home, my should-be safe space. Now, my corner one-bedroom is my haven. And that more than makes it worth it.