Single Living (or, I Am Spoiled)

It’s a bit of an adjustment, learning not only to live on your own again, but all by your lonesome self sans any housemates. After the whole debacle with the hocus-pocus-slut of a maid (I don’t want to get into the details) I put my foot down and told my parents I didn’t want/need any more help out at home and that I was more than capable of taking care of myself.

I had reasoned with them, I would much rather risk having a stranger break into the house when I’m not at home than have the errant maid happily invite strangers off the street while IM STILL INSIDE THE HOUSE.

Triumphant in succeeding to convince my parents that I was indeed, Ms. Independent, in my first week of single living I proceeded to: -

1) Break the latch on the door of washing machine, only after, slumped on the floor in frustration, noticing the sticker on the side of machine that says in red bold letters WAIT 3 MINUTES AFTER SWITCHING POWER OFF TO OPEN DOOR.
2) Cook a whole batch of pasta enough to feed Papa Bear, Mama Bear and Baby Bear – with enough leftovers for Goldilocks to eat for the rest of the week. I had it twice for dinner and threw the rest out. I just don’t know how to cook for one.
3) Order take-out / drive-thru about 5 times.
4) Kill oh, about 3 of my Ma’s potted plants from neglect.
5) Shrink my new Zara shirt (which I’ve only worn once) in the wash :(
6) Forget to bring in the mail, letting it soak in rainwater, so much now all the ink is blurred and the pages stick together.
7) Break the handle on my dad’s favorite mug (sorry Papa!)
8) Leave all of the house lights on to tell any would-be-intruders “Hello, there is someone at home so please don’t come in.” (There goes my electricity bill)
9) Accidentally set the house alarm off, oh, about a dozen times. (sorry ADT!)

But I’m sure these are all teething problems, really, and as my Ma says, it’s all training for the future. Training for what, I don’t know. When I get married, we’re employing an arsenal of maids (take note K. Light).

Thank god my grandmama’s maid grandmama is in town for a visit, with her maid. Ironed clothes! Clean underwear! I don’t have to take out the trash! Rejoice! Ahem.