On living alone
The folks at the Upright Citizens Brigade have a made a hilarious, too true video about what happens when you live alone for the first time.
I do at least half of the things on that list, from “practicing for the circus” (or in my case, dancing in front of the mirror), to talking to yourself to sleeping with your laundry to wearing odd bits of clothing (I tend to favor shorts paired with knee socks and funny hats) to bursting into tears for a few minutes and then moving on as though it never happened–been there, done all of that.
But perhaps the most widely talked about phenomenon amongst those who live alone is the whole never closing the bathroom door thing.
I didn’t realize my bathroom door was difficult to shut until one of the first guests I had over my apartment had to repeatedly slam it until it stayed close. A similar thing happened when I visited my friend’s new place, also his first solo endeavor. When I struggled to shut his bathroom door and called out for assistance in doing so. “I don’t know what to do,” he said. “I never close it.” Something similar happened yet again at another friend’s abode. The bathroom door closed but I noticed that it barely cleared the toilet seat. In fact, a small notch had been cut out of it in the shape of the toilet so that it would close. (New York apartments are a tight squeeze!) When I brought this fact up to my friend, he laughed. “I never even noticed that. I don’t think I’ve ever closed the door since I moved in.”
When I do have guests over, I have consciously remind myself to close the door every time I go to the bathroom. I practically have to do Stuart Smalley style affirmations in the mirror so I don’t forget. I sometimes worry if I’ll be able to adapt and be less gross again when/if I ever move in with someone again.