1200 Square Feet of Solitude

My friend Jenni had a kid yesterday!  All his names sound like a law firm and he’s not gigantic like his father!


Graham moved out today.  Don’t get too excited, stalkers, it’s not like we broke up or anything.  He was only supposed to be staying at my place for a little more than a month.  That turned into three months, which, considering my unpleasant disposition and tendency to kick when I’m sleeping, was a little too long for comfort.  So this move was for the best.  Except now Marley is gone.  And because of that, I am sad.

I’m not thrilled about where Graham is living, like, as in the geographical location of the domicile.  It’s just east of South Grand (which is actually further north from his old place on South Grand and furtherer north from where I am on South Grand).  As a native South Sider, I have issues with “east of Grand.”  It’s not cool.  It’s not safe.  It’s not ideal, especially considering all the criminal shenanigans that took place at his old building.  And this is coming from a South Sider!  Shit, bitches.  You know I aint scared.  But it’s just east of Grand, meaning it’s the very first house on that side.  So I guess that’s okay.  Plus he’s living with people I like and he’s close to all his favorite Thai places.

For awhile, I referred to our living situation as “The Experiment.”  Then someone pointed out that it sounded like I was experimenting with making it permanent, so I stopped.  Pssshht.  Like you don’t know me better than that.  I am a solitary person.  I like space.  I like quiet.  I like not having to walk around someone when it’s before 9am and I am trying to get to the coffee.

It wasn’t all bad.  I’m not saying that.  There were times when it was nice that he was here.  I liked when he put screens in all the windows.  He vacuumed when I asked.  Other stuff.  And, of course, there was Marley (can the undisputed love of your life be a dog?).  But being alone is a hard habit to break.  Sometimes I worry that I’ll never be able to do it.  I assume that I’ll want to co-habit someday, but it’s possible that I won’t know how.  Dudes, I am a douchebag.  I am best in small doses or sedated for the good of society.  No one should want to live with me.

(BTW – I don’t do insecurity disguised as self-deprecating humor.  I’m cool with being a douchebag.  It’s why I pay my own rent.)

So I’m going to get through my first Marley-less night and remember what it’s like to go to sleep without listening for Graham to come home from work.  It shouldn’t be that hard.  I have The Cat and ambient noise.  And in the morning, I can get to the coffee machine all by myself.

About erineph

I'm Erin. I have tattoos and more than one cat. I am an office drone, a music writer, and an erstwhile bartender. I am a cook in the bedroom and a whore in the kitchen. Things I enjoy include but are not limited to zombies, burritos, Cthulhu, Kurt Vonnegut, Keith Richards, accordions, perfumery, and wearing fat pants in the privacy of my own home.
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