All By Myself

Let’s get something straight off the bat. My parents rarely do fun things. I’m pretty sure that they gave their lives up when Arthur was born. If not when Arthur was born, then definitely when I was born. I was a quite the chore. It makes me a little sad, because we’re both really independent and I sometimes worry that Mo and Po don’t feel needed. But that is beside the point. The point is that they never really go out.

Because they never go out, I never really had people come over to my house growing up. I’m a strange kid, and I like to keep my home life separate from my outside the home life. Coupled with my embarrassment of my father’s unpredictable pants status, there was no way people were coming into my home. But suddenly, when I was 17, my folks decided to try a little harder at having a life outside of their children and every once in a while they would vacate the 49^th parallel for an evening.

I remember the first time they went out clearly. They went out for a surprise party for one of their pre-kids friends, and I invited some friends over. I don’t remember exactly who was there or what we did, but Jenna was definitely there because she loves telling this story. It was the first time in high school that I had ever had more than one person over at one time (while I don’t remember who was over, I do remember there were 4 of us). It was glorious and a good time was had my all. That night that my parents brought home half an ice cream cake and my dad said “Don’t look at it too long- It’ll melt!” like it was funny or something. Unfortunately, Jenna laughed her face off and now my dad thinks he’s hilarious when he clearly is not.

The next time they really went out was in my second year of university, and they drove up to Campbell River to go to a wedding. With Arthur living on the island, I was left to my own devices for the night, which I was looking forward to. Unfortunately, a strange fog descended upon the border, so I called Danica and went grocery shopping with her family before watching movies at her house til 2:00 AM. When I drove home, I made Danica sit on the phone with me until I was locked in my house and had checked all the rooms for predators (Shit goes down at the border. Once in elementary school, I came home to a man changing in my back yard).

After the Campbell River Fog Fiasco, my parents went for a weeklong Alaskan cruise with different pre-kids friends. I decided to go big. I hosted a night for all my choir girlies. Long story short, someone dropped pizza on my kitchen floor. Never again will I be inviting people into my home. They are demanding, they make messes, and I am apparently 80 years old.

Which brings us to last week. Last week, my parents went to Vegas with my childhood best friend’s parents. For four days, I was on my own. It may not sound like a huge deal, but seeing as I have no domestic skills to speak of, everyone thought it would be a miracle if I didn’t starve to death.

Sucks to those guys, right? Obviously, I am not dead. In fact, once I get that whole laundry thing down, I will be the best at living alone.

I am super responsible. I woke up on time, went to work, came home, cooked for myself, washed dishes, and went to bed at a reasonable hour. I even had my aunt come over on Wednesday when I wasn’t going to be home until after choir to turn lights on so my home did not appear abandoned. When my parents got home, the house was spotless. I even cleaned up my school shit from the dining room, which I usually don’t do until I’m preparing for my September classes to start. Holla holla c’mon!

The independence living alone afforded me was awesome, but the best part of living on my own was the silence. There is nothing in this world that I appreciate as much as silence, especially in the morning. Morning is when I like to do my best contemplation. My father in particular does not understand this concept, and often interrupts my bouts of silence with his ridiculousness. It was nice to have the time to sit alone in complete silence and enjoy it without him asking me to answer a question for the 3^rd time just because he never bothered to listen to the answer.

Ashley is always getting on my case about living at home. But hey, I live a block from my job, the room and board is free for now. And it’s not so bad, really. Even though I loved having the place to myself for the week, living with the parents isn’t so bad either. My mom even bought me a new pair of Steve Madden ballet flats while she was gone. It’s especially nice since I’m still in school and don’t have to deal with the troubles of the real world while I’m also trying to write papers about whether the poet in “The Parable of the Palace” is a creator or destroyer. But last week got me thinking about living on my own. I had a really good time being in charge of my own place and having time to myself. So maybe that’s on the horizon.  Who knows, right?