In my almost 29 years on this lovely planet, I have never lived alone – unless you count a Single in Rez, which I don’t. I grew up in ranch style bungalow in the suburbs with my parents and sister and have lived in various roommate situations ever since, including apartments in Whistler, Lennoxville and Toronto. The move this summer will mark the 7th place I’ve lived outside of my childhood home, and also has the greatest number of residents.
I love roommates, I really do. Now, this is not to say I haven’t had a few bad apples in my day *cough*ChantalandJuliana*cough* – I’ve definitely survived some less than appealing situations where all you want to do is avoid being at home, which is the worst feeling. However, the majority of my roommate pairings have been excellent, even when they were sourced from interwebz including Frenchie, Other Frenchie, Odd Couple, Eleanor and The Lazy Aussie.
As much as I pride myself in being a Lone Lioness and most definitely have a fierce independent nature, I’m not so sure I’m equipped to really live on my own. We’ve already reviewed my inability to heat my apartment or feed myself, but there is a much longer list of reasons that Nancy should have a lifetime supply of quality and dependable roommates.
Bugs. All of them. When I was younger, if I saw a spider in the house I would simply stand there and start crying until someone killed it. This continued until I was at least 15. Now I scream and run to source help – big improvement.
Spontaneity. While I am mostly a busy and active person, I do have some hermit tendencies. It is very helpful to have others constantly around offering up ideas of things to do when I would otherwise plant myself on the couch and puddle there for an entire day.
Practical jokes. While I realize you can pull practical jokes outside of your home environment, my favourites have always involved roommates. Tigger is still trying to get me back for the Jasmine Packet incident, I still don’t know how I managed to sleep with a turkey baster IN my pillowcase, and who doesn’t love crawling into Eleanor’s bed when she makes a late night trip to the bathroom just to freak her out (the effect is greatly magnified when she has had a few drinks)?
Nutrition. I know I’ve already touched on food, but my problems run deeper then not knowing how to separate a whole chicken. Hot sauce on Premium Plus Crackers = Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner and a Snack if I’m feeling culinarily uninspired (read: lazy or haven’t grocery shopped in two months). I’m afraid I might come down with Scurvy if I didn’t have roommates around to feed me periodically.
Cards. I’m pretty much a grandmother already, so its not shocking that I love playing cards. I do actually enjoy solitare sometimes, but it just screams sad and pathetic if you spend a quantifiable amount of your spare time playing games by yourself. Plus, my rarely seen competitive streak loves to delight at beating the pants off Tigger in a game of Ping (I’m never going to beat Eleanor, I’ve accepted that).
Prince William. I would be much closer to scary-cat-lady status if I lived alone with my cat. End of story.