I was asked the other day if I was becoming a “recluse,” a “hermit,” as I live alone and have since I finally ridded myself of my drunk, now “ex” wife. This venue, over the past few weeks, has received queries about why I had removed the recounting of her behavior, which was beyond appalling and frequently violent.
The response to the removal of the ex-wife posts was quite simple: It was an exorcism of sorts. Those posts about an unrepentant drunk were meant to be instructive to those in similar situations and I tired of being instructive on this issue, though I do respond to queries on the About Alcoholism site. That’s that.
But I’m here to discuss living alone, well, I live with my dog Rex. We’re both getting a bit older…he just had his 11th birthday and we understand on another.
Nonetheless, most, if not all see me as a “loner.” I’m not really so. Actually, and I don’t think I’m being immodest here, I’m generally known as rather engaging, witty and intelligent, though somewhat offbeat.
That aside, I find it comforting and remarkably pleasant to walk about my apartment and see only the art, furniture and furnishings that I purchased. I’m also known as a pretty good cook, though now, living alone I try to cook for an entire week, or close to it. This morning I made meat sauce for pasta; in recent weeks, Chile from a recipe that won a prize in some national Chile competition and not infrequently, I’ll simply have a sandwich.
It is not as if I’ve not lived alone in the past so there’s little new about it. The chores of maintaining a home, especially an apartment where maintenance is handled for one, are rather simple, even in a 1400 square foot three bedroom. After all, how tough is it maintain a “clean, well-lighted” abode. Yes, I do run a vacuum cleaner, clean bathrooms and mop floors that need to be mopped. In fact, though I’ve dishwasher, I wash ‘em by hand…there’s only one of me. It’s living alone.
Living alone does have challenges, of course. I’m a New Yorker living the suburbs of Las Vegas and for the past two months I’ve been trying to be a New Yorker: I have yet to buy a car. Yes, I had one, a 2002 Tbird, but the engine blew on it. I was able to get more than I anticipated for it, however, I wasn’t prepared to buy another car.
I was prepared to visit the possiblities on living without one; on public transportation. Well, I picked a collapsible market cart on Amazon and found that there’s a bus a block from my apartment that runs pretty much on schedule (never more than 5 or 10 minutes off) to the grocery store I attend a little more than a mile away. It costs a couple of bucks each way, but is quite convenient. In fact, quite a few folks seem to use it and it’s a diverse crowd on the bus.