I have been dying for an apartment for about a year. It’s one of those great life transitions that I feel I should experience, and I thought I had it worked out. I secured that elusive ‘real job’ after graduating college. I would stay with my parents until I saved enough money, preferably only a quick 6-month ordeal, and then I’d be off on my own in some fabulous apartment furnished with Ikea furniture and mood lighting.
Fast forward to a full year and then some since I started my job and moved back in with my parents. I’m still here. Laughing at my naievity in how the real world would be once I got that college degree.
Now. I have to admit it’s very nice to not have bills. I don’t pay rent, heat, water, any of that. But the wanting of my own space is so apparent. I’m almost 24. I need my own place to just be. I love my parents and it’s nice having their company, but I want that little slice of independence. Due to a myriad of reasons, the whole apartment thing just hasn’t happened yet.
But that’s why I like nights like tonight. I have the house to myself. My parents are off at some thing at Dave and Buster’s, and I’m alone. Sitting on the couch in my pajamas with my dog. I’ve got a sandwich with my name on it and I might watch some TV and just revel in the alone-ness of it all. I’m a little bit of a homebody. I’m very aware of it. But it’s nice to come home and clear your head. To just be by yourself for some time. No one asking you questions, no one trying to make you do things. Just you.
So tonight, for a while, I’m on my own. Miss Kelly Clarkson said it best: “Doesn’t mean I’m lonely when I’m alone.”