A post on Jezebel got me thinking about the joys of living alone.
Joy #1: getting to watch Golden Girls all I want. It's kind of annoying when the boy comes over and I don't get to have my regular midnight viewing of Dorothy and the gang.
Joy #2: morning rituals that don't involve being courteous to someone else. I hate to wake up the boy in the morning so I don't turn the tv on when I'm getting ready (again to watch Golden Girls) and I close the bathroom door so the light doesn't bother him. I don't mind being nice every once in awhile but if I had to be that curteous every single day? Madness.
Joy #3: dishes get done on my schedule. I'm actually pretty good about keeping my dishes in the dishwasher, put up, etc. (mainly because I have like 3 plates/bowls/spoons that I adore), but if I want to be lazy and keep some plates in the sink for a week, I totally can.
Joy #4: I get to put my shoes wherever the hell I want!!! That last one is directed at my old roommate who used to (rightly) complain when I left my shoes by the front door. But when I'm the only one tripping over them? I can keep them wherever I want.
Joy #5: my DVR is my own. If I want to fill my DVR with 30 Rock episodes and an occasionally trashy reality show, I can. No one can chastise me for taking up too much room with stupid shows. Because I'm the only one who cares. So I can record Heathers when it comes on at 3 in the morning and watch it over 3 days time.
Joy #6: I can use the dining room table for mail if it's the most convenient place to put it, which it is.
Joy #7: I can feel zero guilt if I come home after the gym and do absolutely nothing until it's time to go to bed. (I add the gym part because that's necessary to the zero guilt part - it's a cause and effect type thing.)
Joy #8: I can wear nothing but a t-shirt when all my other pjs are dirty and I don't have to worry about any weird looks or offending hands.
Joy #9: my beautiful, striped, thrift store find chair is displayed in all her glory and I don't care if anyone else likes it.
Joy #10: I can talk on my cell as long and as loud as I want without worrying about disrupting anyone else. And I can talk about whomever I want. Hee. (It's hard to talk about a boy when he's sitting next to you.)
Joy #11: I can eat ice cream at 2 in the morning if I want and completely forget that it happened. I'm not an ice cream-in-the-wee-hours type of person but I could do it if I wanted to.
Joy #12: I can wear my ugly glasses all the time because they're the comfiest.
Joy #13: my home outfits are only seen by me. I have a tendency, when cold, to wear capri pants with really tall socks and about 3 shirts. I'm cold often. It's not a look one would like others to see.
Joy #14: as Jezebel put it, my floordrobe. Mine's really a chairdrobe but same diff. No one can tell me to hang up my clothes, thank god!
Joy #15: I can decorate as I please. Case in point: I'm a bit of a mirror fiend. I have a tiny place and I happen to believe that strategic mirror placement helps with the illusion of space. But seriously, if I didn't point it out to a visitor, I'm pretty sure no one would notice. At least I think that way.
Joy #16: I can call in sick and no one will know that I'm not really sick.
Joy #17: no one has to know that one of my sincerest hobbies on the weekends is to lay in bed for multiple hours.
Joy #18: if I drop something on the floor in the middle of cleaning or cooking or bringing mail in or whatever, I don't have to pick it up. At least not before I trip on it or squish it.
Joy #19: my bathroom is my own. I never have to move away from the mirror so someone else can brush their teeth and I do not have to put my eyeliner on in a room that doesn't have as flattering light as the bathroom.
Joy #20: (last but not least) everything is mine, all mine!! If I hate the way a book is stacked, I can move it. If I love a candle, I can display it. If I want a lamp on 24/7, it's on. If I want to randomly change my bedroom linens and curtains, I do it. If I want my bouncy, workout ball thing to be a prominent part of my everyday life, it is. If I want to move a painting 2.5 inches to the left, it's moved baby. Everything I own is precious and beautiful to me. I agonize over placement of the smallest votive holder. And my Kim Possible doll? she's perfectly placed in the kitchen to tell me I can do it! No one gets to have an opinion on my magnet collection of refrigerator hodge-podge because I pay the rent.
I stopped at 20 but I could list 5,000 reasons to live alone. But really, #1 is the most important. I have my priorities.