I never want to live by myself.
I've always told my friends that just once in my life, some day, I would like to live by myself. Just to experience it. But this week my roommates all went home--well, that's not true. Three went home, but the other two have more important things to do than sit around the apartment all day. So, I'm basically doing what I always wanted: living alone. At first it was pretty sweet. I can turn up the music as loud as I want, stay up late without having to worry about bothering someone in my apartment, and everything stays super clean because it's just one person using all the dishes.
And then the boredom set in. I made a delicious dinner, watched three movies in a row, and finally went to bed. Then I woke up and spent copious amounts of time getting ready for my day, even though I knew I would only be spending it at work. When my roommate finally showed up, I swear I literally leaped for joy just to hear another human voice in my apartment.
I understand why single people get animals now. It would be nice to have more than a frog to live with, especially because the only thing the frog can do is just stare at me creepily while I eat my breakfast. For some reason, the tank is on the kitchen table.
Now here I sit, on my couch, blasting the Beatles, waiting for my fudge to set in the fridge that I will clean tomorrow. Since it's my day off, I have the whole day in this apartment. Wooooot!
If I happen to end up an old maid most of my life, I fully intend to become a mad cat woman who sits on the front porch with a shot gun, yelling at kids to get off my lawn.
Either that or I'll save money and get a roommate.