I realized this morning (yet again) that I am thankful for the opportunity to live by myself. I wasn't so high on the idea when it was initially presented to me (granted, I was still trying to cope with the whole "but you said you loved me, and I already bought the wedding dress" issue), but now I'm loving it. Below are some of the reasons for my gratitude, at least this morning:
- when I ruined the first pot of coffee this morning, I just tipped it out and started over. Didn't have to explain why I didn't put enough coffee in the basket in the first place, or make anyone else wait for the next pot to brew. And the second pot was perfect. And not stressful.
- no one judges me for watching Dawson's Creek DVDs multiple times before sending them back to Netflix. (Okay, *I* judge me a little ... )
- I am going to spend the afternoon cleaning out my closet. And I'm looking forward to it. This would've been like pulling teeth with any of the people with whom I have shared living quarters.
- things are always exactly where I put them. This is both good and bad. It's good in the "I always know where everything is" sense, but it's bad in the "why must I continue to leave all my shoes where I will obviously trip over them" sense.
- I did not have to share the perfect omelet that I made this morning, or ask if chevre, tomatoes & olives sounded good to anyone else. They probably wouldn't have -- but they were spectacular.
- there are always enough socks.
And on that profound note, my dears, I am off to check on the pork shoulder in the crock pot, and clean out the closet.
I'm going to walk this afternoon (it's beautiful here) -- I have a 6.5 mile jaunt planned at the park near my house. It has a dog park, which I've been looking forward to checking out, so maybe Hadley and I will try it out next weekend if it looks promising.
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