Sure, I've lived alone before. Plenty. And it's g-l-o-r-i-o-u-s, I might add. Dawson's Creek marathons until bedtime, which comes only when I'm quite ready. The bathroom to myself, so I can completely hog the sink with unnecessary items like hairdryers and three kinds of lotion. Hogging the covers and saving only enough room for the cats.
But I've always had neighbors. Upstairs, downstairs, next door, across the hall. Apartment living is horrendous.
But right now, for the time being, I have a house. A whole house. An entire house - two bathrooms, three bedrooms, dining room, kitchen, family room, living room, Internet, television, garage, yard, sun porch - all to myself, holy cow.
I've never lived in a house before, nonetheless alone. I can be loud, and no one can complain. I can leave one bedroom and go to another, or another. If the living room isn't enough, there's the family room.
I feel very grown up, and at the same time, not, because I'm taking full advantage of my current arrangement - hell, I'm up past 11 p.m. blogging. And I'll probably go to bed and sleep sideways or send text messages. I'll go to work in the morning on an empty stomach, and probably eat leftover pizza for dinner.
These are all things I would have never anticipated doing once I lived in a house. Because aren't houses for families and responsibility? Paying bills and stressing about mortgages?
I'm sure that time in my life is on the way, somewhere. Sometime. But for now, I'll continue playing my own version of house. Because I like it much better.