Here, I am the Queen
Bee and totally happy.
Having survived some
horror shared houses, my dream opportunity arrived where could live alone in my
own place.
What I love about living alone is the peace and quiet.
With work being a very noisy and full-on experience, it is so nice to come at
the end to a tranquil piece of real estate which is my sanctuary.
In this sanctuary,
there are no patients wanting anything, no nurses giving marching orders – just
me, myself and I. I don’t have to come home pretending to love my job. I just
have a cup of tea, regroup and take control of the time outside of work that is
really my own.
As opposed to
sharing with others, it is also nice to be able to potter around without
feeling like you’re not intruding on the space of those whose house you’re living
in. I can cook food without feeling I’m upsetting someone's delicate equilibrium or have to put up with psycho,
eco-criminal landlords who just want the rent money but can’t stand anyone
living in their house.
But then again, the
process of living alone can be seen as a rite of passage and a sign of having
the financial security to afford your own place. No longer being a student or
being in casual and insecure employment, I am now in control enough to be
entrusted with a rent and bills; not to mention, my piece of paradise.
Another thing I
really enjoyed is what my Mum calls “nesting”. It has been great fun choosing
things for the wall and making the apartment your own. Deciding on photos and art work has been
great fun and my little space seems to be a work in progress.
Chloe is a new
addition to the cute apartment with a view. While I grew up with her being in
my parents’ bedroom when we lived in England, we have been separated since we
came out to Australia.
It now that I discovered that she has a long, dark and mysterious past. My Dad picked her up when he was a student at Cambridge from a friend who had saved her from an old manor house that was being demolished. If only she could talk because I think she would have a few stories to tell.
It now that I discovered that she has a long, dark and mysterious past. My Dad picked her up when he was a student at Cambridge from a friend who had saved her from an old manor house that was being demolished. If only she could talk because I think she would have a few stories to tell.
A common question is
“are you lonely?” and the answer is no, not at all. It is not like I don’t have
a life, friends or never go out. But because life can get so busy coming home
to the peace and quiet is makes living alone so great.
Love your vision of serenity. Feels like a warm Sunday afternoon.
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