Most of my life, I have been living with someone. Of course, it started with my parents and sisters. Those were the days with more rules than freedom, and blood was often shed, and fistfuls of hair torn from their roots when I'd find my sister wearing my new jean jacket she swore up and down she never took. Then I moved out and got roommates, and that too came with a whole set of compromises, general lack of personal space and questionable hygiene standards, i.e.) A clogged shower drain with hair clearly a different colour than my own. Then I got married…and had kids…and well, not only was I never alone, I was completely surrounded.
In the last couple of years, I have been blissfully living on my own. My kids are launched, no live-in boyfriend leaving the toilet seat up, the used teabag in the sink or the untimely discovery of an empty toilet roll, and I have to say it is unparalleled rapture.
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