The trials and tribulations of living alone

After being in a relationship and living with a man for 5 years, I got pretty accustomed to certain things. Mainly; feeling safe, unlimited access to sexy time, and a magical yard that did it’s own maintenance. I’ve lived alone for 3 years now. Yes my kid was present but in this sense of home life she isn’t counted as a asset of security and labor.

Geez that’s a super nice way to refer to my kid.

Anyways, I want to express some of the struggles I have come across over the years that have came to be due to the fact of not having a extra adult body in the house.

I want to light this house on fire and watch it slowly burn. This is what goes through my mind every time something fucks up in my old shitty house. I love my house, but damn if every time it rains there is a new leak, every time the sun comes out it’s time to mow the grass again, every time you run the dishwasher it quits mid cycle and every time you try to rearrange furniture at 3am, something breaks. Ladies, if you wake up every day and never have to worry about the maintenance of your home, other than keeping that shit clean, then I recommended that you wake your man up to a BJ every morning. Keeping your home from falling to shit is hard. I know you can hire someone to do all of this work for you, but im a single mom, I can’t afford that shit. I feel like I am constantly on the roof, under the house, and behind a push mower. It’s a lot to do for just one person, but I get it done, for the most part. Most of the time I make my 7 yr old hold the ladder and the phone and tell her if I fall off the roof call 911 and tell them her dad pushed me.

The fuck was that noise? If I’m the one you’re relying on to figure out what that bang outside the window was, you’re screwed. I’m a big ass pansy. Every time I hear a strange noise I just pull the covers over my head and close my eyes and pray they just take the TV and the bag of Cheetos on the night stand and leave. My kid sleeps in my bed and she has to sleep on the side closest to the door so the boogie man gets to her first. You’re damn right I still check all the closets and under the bed for creepers every day that I get home. I have come to the conclusion that if I ever come face to face with one of them in my home that maybe I can offer them steak and beer in exchange for life. Last night I went out to my car to find my wallet and heard foot steps. I freaked the fuck out, locked myself in my car for 10 minutes and then found enough bravery to run to the house as fast as my thunder thighs would let me. Got in the house, locked the door and went into the bedroom to peek out the windows and look for this scary grizzly man walking around my yard coming to rape me. Turns out the ice melting from my roof and falling to the ground sounds just like the foot steps of a 400 lb rapist. My bad.

Resorting to begging people on facebook to come help me. I try to do everything by myself. But there are just some things that are not physically possible for one person to do. Like move a 200 lb bed from the house to the barn. Believe me, I actually tried doing it, almost broke my toe. I have resorted to asking facebook to help. This way I don’t feel guilty for asking one person. I just kinda put out a SOS and someone just volunteers to help. Normally they are men that secretly hope I will molest them if they come over and do some work for me. They are very disappointed when I hand them a beer and shoo them out the door.

Communicating with my animals. I find myself treating my animals more like roommates than furry little creatures. I come home and ask them how was their day, I share food with my cat so she will stay on the couch with me and watch Netflix, and I lecture my dogs about being lazy shits and needing to get up and do something productive with their lives.

Zippers. I use to have a jack russel that loved zippers. I spent a lot of time trying to train this dog to grab the zipper on the back of my dress and pull it up. Fail. Dog just looked at me like I was crazy and chewed on my dress. Thus resulting in me running across the street, hanging half way out my dress, hoping the neighbor was home to help me out. Oh the luxury of having a 24/7 dress zipper upper.

Sometimes I just crave substance. I’ve had a few friends stay with me for a short period of time. I loved waking up super early and crawling in the bed with them and talking about the crazy ass dream I just had. I crave physical contact (not sexual) and conversation. A warm body beside you to talk about anything and everything with is such a luxury. Being alone makes you appreciate people so much  more.

I think I have adapted very well to this lifestyle. I no longer consider it lonely and boring and feel the need to seek out individuals to fill the void. I appreciate the quiet and have come to realize that being by yourself helps you discover things about yourself and your abilities that you would have never known if you stayed comfortable under someone else’s wing. I get much more respect from being so independent but I have also learned that my hardheaded independence has a tendency to push people away. I have gone from the “omg I wont ever be able to do this myself” mentality to the “move over, I got this” lifestyle. It’s so rewarding. But you know, I always have to find something to bitch and whine about.

I honestly wish we could bring back some attributes of the old days. Mainly bartering. Everyone has their own unique qualities and knowledge that another person could benefit from. With bartering you aren’t using someone, you are doing something in fair trade. Always beneficial to both parties. The relationships between people would be stronger and positive. Unfortunately I grew up in the wrong generation for all of that.

 

Hope your humpday is everything you wanted it to be.

Stay Classy Assholes.

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