ill lian
Thursday, January 10, 2008, 4:58 PM
There are very few moments in my life when I regret living alone:
1) When I'm out of milk on the weekends and can't bear the thought of actually putting on clothes and make-up, leaving my apartment and hauling myself over to the grocery store. If I didn't live alone, I could send my roommate / boyfriend / mother, depending on my hypothetical living arrangements. Better yet, I'm sure they wouldn't forget to stock up on groceries before the weekend, like I do, perpetually.
And 2) When I’m sick.
I fell ill on Monday night and was a complete and utter mess trying to function all by myself. I was pathetic. I was desperate. I was absolutely miserable. I felt so uncomfortable and ridden with pain, I was moved to craft a plug for my shower drain out of rags, fill the floor with hot water, and awkwardly wallow in about five centimeters of water. The world’s most crude makeshift bathtub. I felt like a beached whale. I probably looked like a beached whale, too.
Somehow I made it through the night and got my parents to pick me up. I’ve been living back at their place for the past few days, enjoying the amenities. It’s times like these you really appreciate family. I’m starting to feel better – yes, the pampering helped – and I suppose I’ll be going back home again tomorrow... I feel like I’m in a time warp. A kid again, living with mom and dad, sleeping in my old bed.
And I haven’t had a cigarette in three days.
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