Things I've Learned From Living Alone For A Week
I’ve been living alone for about five and a half days now. Technically I have a roommate, but he doesn’t start work until September (lucky bastard), so he’s on an extended vacation on the other side of the country. When I first heard this news I thought, “oh this will be great! I’ll have plenty of time alone with my thoughts, and I’ll be able to catch up on all the reading I’ve been wanting to do forever!” But apparently I don’t have that many thoughts, and I don’t want to catch up on that much reading after all.
I guess part of me thought I would remember how to entertain myself from a childhood full of older brothers that insisted on exclusively playing single-player video games; turns out I remember less of that than what I learned in high school history.*
Anyway, all this alone time has left me bored out of my fucking mind. So much so that I’ve decided to write this article outlining a few of the things I’ve discovered out of aforementioned boredom (probably more for my entertainment than yours).
Walking around naked is great
After talking to some of my other friends that are living/have lived alone, I’ve deduced that if you leave anyone in solitude for long enough, they will automatically revert to nakedness. It’s liberating. It’s breezy. And it means doing laundry less often.
The buildings in my neighborhood are too close together
This realization didn’t exactly come to me out of boredom, but because I don’t have air conditioning and therefore have to leave the windows open at night to survive. It was during one of these fateful nights I heard what could only be described as a bear arguing with a whale over why the door hinge is so squeaky. I realize this discovery doesn’t really mean anything to you, but it was essential in my next epiphany...
Hearing sex makes anyone automatically revert to being 12 years old
Everybody has different coping mechanisms when that distinct sound reaches their ears. Some people turn the music up; others curl up in the fetal position. I’m personally a fan of making sex noises right back at the happy couple. In any case, before the coping can begin, an initial period of being utterly disgusted and/or unable to contain one's girlish giggles must ensue (which one usually depends on what the people having sex look like and their relationship with the person hearing it).
There is no amount of boredom to overcome my fear of being awkward
In the five and a half days I’ve lived here, I’ve had exactly two interactions with two different neighbors. I said six words in total and did not learn the name of either neighbor. Both interactions were in the parking lot. While most people would knock on their neighbors’ doors and introduce themselves, perhaps with a plate of freshly baked cookies as an icebreaker, I prefer to observe my neighbors from behind the safety of my blinds and make up stories about them. This way I feel like I know the people that surround me, and I don’t have to pretend that I can’t hear them having sex through the walls when I see them checking the mail.
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*Unlike many Sherman Ave writers, I am absolutely terrible at history. I’ve literally failed every exam in every history class I’ve ever taken, and only passed because of the ridiculous amount of extra credit offered (Thanks, McNichols).
