Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Hidden Mickey

I live alone. Apparently I am part of "the biggest social change of the last 50 or 60 years that we have failed to name or identify."* In other words, I have joined the 31 million other people in this world that live alone. Man, I feel like I am part of a special club. Sorry Stephen, you're not one of the 31 million people invited. And now that the world knows I live alone, I hope they choose to rob the other 30999999 before me.
I find that when one lives alone, there is a certain amount of control. It may come with more responsibility, and more bills to pay, but it's nice to hog the washer and dryer all weekend, it's nice to have pictures of people you know hanging on your walls, and it's nice to walk around in your underwear every once in a while. (My Mom is so proud.)

Every now and again I have visitors. Sometimes they even visit when I'm not home. I like being a "home away from home" for family. (I must really love them, huh?) Most of the time, I am warned of their impending arrival.

People who live alone have a sort of spider sense and know of visitors even in those rare occasions they are not forewarned. It might be a simple picture slightly crooked on the wall, a McDonald's french fry, or a smelly diaper in the trash. More subtly, it might be a pillow moved from one couch to the other or a sharper left out on your desk.

Sometimes I make it a game for myself to find what is out of place. My Nephew makes it pretty easy, and sometimes he likes to bring a little humor into it. He's never been to Disney World, but already knows how to play one of my favorite games, "Can you find the hidden Mickey?"

I love when my family visits, and I love the prizes they leave me. Living alone is great.



Mrs. 5C said...

I did really love living alone in Harrisonburg. I was married for a really long time before I felt comfortable wandering around with a green facemask on or conditioner in my hair for hours. And I still relish the rare Saturday that Rob has something to do without me. There's something nice about peeing with the bathroom door open. ;)

OnlyMeyers said...

Sarah, you should try peeing THROUGH the open bathroom door.

Theresa, if you don't let me in your club, i'm gonna call the president, and he's gonna say (in his presidential voice) "Now, Theresa. Is it too much to ask, for your brother, (points to me) to join your special club. If you don't play nice, I'll have the secret service put you in jail on Mars." and at that point we can stop listening. All I'm trying to say is that when I make pancakes, I always butter the pan. If you don't, they just arent the same. Some day you'll learn, and hopefully without falling off your bike and breaking a bone. It's like The father in the Brady Bunch said, "When life is tough, scruff Mcgruff, lizard handcuff." And I farted. GOODNIGHT