And it sucks.
The grandparental units left for ten days, and at first I was all “freedom!” jumping on my bed eating a bag of microwave popcorn, like silly little Kevin in Home Alone. But then I started getting jumpy at all the creaky sounds of an old empty house, and came pretty close to hiding under the bed with a bb gun. Okay, entirely not true, but I did get a little scared.
I think I also realized what a social creature I am. Even though I don’t enjoy constant interaction and conversation, I like to know there’s other people around. I guess that’s why, in some ways, living with my parents last year was great…we were all there, but we just ignored each other. Hee. Not kidding, though.
So, my point is: I will never live alone if I can help it, even if I end up 50 and still single and I’ll just have to deal with the speculation of having a roommate (maybe one of my sisters will be a spinster, too, and we’ll be like characters out of Anne of Green Gables or something). Also, I will try not to take my grandparents’ sweet (albeit sometimes smothering) company for granted upon their return.