Screw the To Do List.
That’s my motto, or it would be if I made To Do Lists. Because guess what:
To Do Lists are not legally binding.
However, they are enforceable.
Just ask any woman who has another adult living under her roof. Especially a life partner. Non-performance may result in evil stares, passive aggressive grunts or under-the-breath invective spewing.
Should her other head-of-household remain out of compliance with To Do obligations- obligations which are literally spelled out in black and white –his or her personal property is at risk of destruction, and divorce becomes a distinct possibility.
That my friends, is why living alone is the best.
The B.E.S.T best.
Some of you might be shaking your head in disbelief. Maybe you hate being on your own. Maybe you are convinced you’ll “die alone” and become post-mortem meals for your pets until your decomposing (but delicious, so says the dog) corpse is discovered.
I get it. In our matrimanical society, it is impossible to escape the message that the unwed are miserable, immature, too picky, too ambitious, too selfish, too (fill in the blank). Politicians, psychologists, journalists and comedy-writers all declare, loudly, that spinsters are the biggest threat to the nation.
Talk about fear-mongering. Newsweek Magazine proclaimed that women over 40 are more likely to be killed by a terrorist than get married 3 decades ago. Last month, Time published lessons on How To Stay Married. Because marriage makes you live longer, be happier and have more money.
Except the money part. That is true.
For sure, money changes everything. Still, the biggest reason why living alone is the best is absolutely not financial. Hell, it’s harder to keep the lights on if there is no one splitting the electric bill with you.
To me, the #1 reason why I adore living alone is The Who Cares Factor.
Yes, The Who Cares Factor. As in, Who Cares if you sleep late? Who Cares about socks on the floor or dishes in the sink? Who Cares if you binge on Real Housewives (most of whom are not wives, just sayin’) or read chick lit?
Who Cares? NOBODY.
Sure, living alone, sometimes I get on my own nerves, which is nobody’s fault except mine.
Better me than you. Really.
You see, the main problem with sharing quarters with other people is that the minute, no, the second something in the house is amiss, you blame your co-habitants.
Clearly, you didn’t shoot a three-pointer at the trash can and miss. It certainly wasn’t you who left the newspaper in the bathroom. No way were you the one who used the decorative hand towels. Leave the lights on? You?
Simply put, in a multi-person household, whatever misdeed is done is done by someone else and vice versa. “Someones” are always making messes and driving you insane. You’re only human after all.
Then, after you investigate and confront someone else and that someone points out that you were the true perpetrator. Boy, does that suck.
Here’s the thing: when you live alone, you are always the perpetrator. What’s done is done, by you. What’s not done, you didn’t do. And because there is no someone else ready to pounce with a “J’acccuse”–
The 29 Things (at least) I Did Not Do Last Weekend
- Sweep the kitchen floor.
- Dust the furniture downstairs.
- Dust the furniture upstairs.
- Mop the bathroom floor.
Sensing a theme here?
- Sweep the patio.
- Sweep the stoop.
- Pull weeds and prune rose-bushes.
This one I am almost embarrassed about– my yard only is 10 feet by 16 feet. I have 3 rose bushes.
- Buy new frames for the artwork that goes on the wall in the bathroom to replace the ones I broke two weeks ago in a foolish attempt to do something.
- Hang the artwork in the bathroom.
- Hang the mirrors in the bathroom.
- Replace the light fixture in the bathroom.
I had my bathroom remodeled over the winter. The floor is faux Carrera Marble, with lots of gray tones. Meaning the floor never looks dirty. If it does, I take off my glasses.
- Floss. My dentist cares about this one.
- Call Purple Heart to pick up the 15 bags of clothing I need to donate.
- Call Habit for Humanity to pick up the cherry wood desk and filing cabinets I need to donate.
Donate = Get Out of My House.
- Call my parents.
- Call anyone.
- Join an on-line dating service.
Oh the joy of controlling access to yourself.
- Wash my car. Correction—get my car washed.
- Bathe Millie.
#waterconservationwarrier #notfoolingmothernature #smelllikeadog #6weeksworthofunderwear
- My nails.
- My hair.
- Get my license photo take at the DMV.
License expired 4/2015.
- Put together an IKEA table.
- Install the window AC unit in my bedroom.
Sweating off the calories? Yeah, that’s the ticket.
- Make reservations for the trip to Chicago I am taking next month with my sister.
I hope somebody- you?- cares about that last one.
I accomplished a few things though. I vacuumed, because Millie made a mess or three. I cleaned the tub and toilet because they are black and, in case you didn’t know, black shows more dirt that white. Hmmm… what else…? With no one in my house to nag remind me, Who Cares?
This is looking suspiciously like a To Do list. I better sign off before I start to care.
PS- Pundits, politicians and publishers worship the “Typical American Family” in images, words and deeds. The typical American family being married parents with children living under one roof.
Typical my ass. Only 20% of households have so-called nuclear families.
In fact, the Pew Research Center says that solo dwelling is on the rise in American. Women have more money these days and, therefore, more options regarding marriage. We have the power to choose to live all by our not-so-lonesomes.
Do you live alone? How long did it take for you to discover it is truly THE BEST? What didn’t you do last weekend? Leave a comment below, or e-mail me.
PPS- Don’t forget to Like SingleAtThisAge.com on Facebook.