There’s a lot to be said for living alone. You get your own space, to do with what you will. You don’t have to worry about anyone else; if your dishes pile up, no one else can yell at you. You can eat Mi Goreng for dinner and no one can frown disapprovingly at you for making poor lifestyles choices. It’s a fun time. However, living alone does have its downsides, as I am beginning to discover.
Take for example, the bins. I am used to bin night being on a Sunday. End of the week, it seems a reasonable night to put the bins out. In my new house, the bins go out on a Thursday night. At least, I think they do. You see, the opposite side of the street has their bins out. And yet every single neighbour on my side of the street? Not a bin to be seen. So I get paranoid. Is Thursday really bin night? Are the neighbours testing me, like some kind of bizarre, fraternityesque hazing ritual? See how many times the new girl tentatively takes her bins out on a Thursday before she realises bin night is actually Saturday? I don’t know. And despite my bins being emptied every time I’ve put them out, I can’t help but think the rubbish truck drivers are only emptying my bins out of pity. Can you say paranoid?
And then there’s the food issue. Sure, I could have Mi Goreng, as I mentioned earlier. Except I am trying – and very hard I might add – to be an adult. Which means trying to think of something to have for dinner every night. And even for someone as imaginative as myself, boy is that a tough job. I am not overly fond of cooking, largely because I suck at it. But it’s now not uncommon for me to spend my entire day trying to think what I’ll cook that night for dinner. I suddenly have so much more appreciation for my dad, and his unfailing ability to think of and provide dinner each night. I would suggest getting him to move in with me but…well, that would most certainly defeat the purpose of moving out in the first place. Still…
And then, the most difficult of all things. This hadn’t actually occurred to me until tonight, when I was faced with this particular obstacle but now that it has come to my attention, it is absolutely a problem. Spiders. I am utterly, totally, one hundred percent terrified of spiders. The ‘my body freezes and my heart races and I can’t function’ kind of terrified. Tonight, one of those eight legged freaks infiltrated my sanctuary. I glared at it from across the room, desperately wishing looks really could kill. And when that failed, I had to actually deal with the beast, on my own. No gigantor brother. No bearded, impervious father. Just little old me. And a big fuck off can of bug spray. I got him, boy did I get him. And I was only shaking for like, half an hour afterwards! But I am here for the next year and I can only dread the inevitable onslaught of spider armies that will come to
avenge their fallen brother in the coming months. I’ve started a war that I may be too frightened to win. Ooops.
Yes, living alone is great. But being an adult? What, with the decision making and the responsibility having and the spider killing, I think I should just leave adulthood to those better equipped to deal with it!