Living with a Roommate vs. Living Alone: Lists

Backstory is relatively unnecessary if I hope to keep your attention, so I’ll keep it short. By the other side of summer in 2015, I will be living alone for the first time in my entire life. I have always either lived with my parents, among friends, or with a roommate. The last two years of my life, it has been the latter. Due to circumstances, the current roommate and I will be parting ways once this lease is up. As much as I do not like being alone, I have always had rich, sensory fantasies about being so independent that nothing was the jurisdiction of another person. Everything happened on my time, my way, because no one else had a hand in the sustainability of my livelihood. The following is a list of Now vs. Then, to help me itemize the fearful experience that is preparing for being alone in a living space for the first time in my entire life.

What I Will Miss About Living with a Roommate

  • Shared expenses.

Oh, shit, was that it? Very well then.

What I Have to Gain From Living Alone

  • Reign over every inch of the house.
  • Government over electricity and plumbing usage.
  • A sink full of dirty dishes and no fucks to give.
  • A fridge and pantry full of organic, whole, vegan foods.
  • My own furniture.
  • My own dishes, cookware, and cutlery.
  • A place for everything, and everything in a place.
  • A living room full of the stuff I just don’t fuckin’ feel like storing in my room.
  • Black clothes and no cat hair.
  • Furniture and no cat hair.
  • Towels and no cat hair.
  • Electronics and no cat hair.
  • A cat hair free existence.
  • A lint roller free existence.
  • My nail polish all over the coffee table.
  • My bike propped against a different wall every day of the week.
  • A mailbox full of mail and no obligation to check it.
  • A spare key for my ex/buddy, for emergencies.
  • A tray of decorate stones by the door where motherfuckers put their shoes.
  • Never again a whiff of cigarette smoke in my smoke-free house.
  • Naked time, all the time.
  • No cat box smell.
  • No cat cat box litter.
  • No fucking cat box.
  • My friends over. And over. And over again.
  • A carefully sectioned off “safe space” for the dogs, so they don’t have to be kenneled while I’m not home.
  • My TV. Just mine. Fuck off, I’m watching Buffy.
  • No fucking lights left on.
  • Bills paid on time, every time.
  • One less contact in my phone.
  • One less compulsion to keep peace.
  • One less thing.
  • One more thing.

My independence.


About RicoChey

I'm just an unmarried, childless, thirty-something high school dropout with big ideas and a small attention span. Weave drunkenly behind me as I meander through my own life: a winding path of musings on life, relationships, food, the few politics I can stomach discussing, and probably really dumb stuff like the ratio of Sex and the City episodes wherein Carrie does and does not appear to be wearing extensions.
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One Response to Living with a Roommate vs. Living Alone: Lists

  1. Pingback: Flashback: On Living Alone | Long Story, Short.

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