Saturday, March 8, 2014

Crazy old cat lady

Last night when I got home from work I soon realized I had lost my cell phone and it wasn't in any of the usual places I set it.

My first thought was "I'll just call it."

My second thought was "Oh wait, I can't because that's the only phone in the apartment."

My third thought was "I'll just text someone and have them call it."

My fourth thought was "Oh wait ... again with the whole 'only phone in the household' thing."

My fifth thought was that I wished my mom was here to look for it, because only moms think to look in all the spots lost things hide, like in the middle of the floor or sitting on the bookshelf right where you left it.

There is nothing like having your own place to make you appreciate your mother. College was bad enough. I had to do my own laundry and sure, I cooked plenty when I was still living at home but it's not the same when it's a prerequisite for eating dinner every night instead of a hobby. But still, college involved roommates. At least occasionally you would come home from a long day and find chocolate chip cookies waiting or that someone had taken pity on you (or just gotten fed up) and done the dishes already even though it was your day.

When you have your own place, coming home to all the dishes done would be cause for concern that you were the victim of a burglar who assuaged their guilty conscience about stealing your laptop by doing some chores to make up for it.

Also, when you're home sick in college your mommy might not be there to make chicken noodle soup for you and take your temperature, but at least your roommates can spare a few pitying looks, check occasionally to make sure you're not dead, and if you have a really good one even offer to bring you a drink of water. This week when I was home sick from work I woke up to the realization that I could not fulfill my deep desire to not move from my bed all day while also fulfilling my desire not to die of dehydration. Somehow I survived.

Of course, the flip side of living alone is that even though there is no one around to worry about you, there is also no one around for you to worry about. No one to considerately leave hot water for on Sunday mornings, to try to find your pajamas in the dark so you don't wake them up. You don't have to worry that listening to music without headphones will disturb someone, or if you leave a pile of laundry on the living room floor when you go to bed that someone will trip on it during the night. No fighting over the temperature of the apartment or making small talk when you really just want to eat in contemplative silence. No one to judge you when you really just feel like listening to NSYNC  one night.

The danger of this lifestyle is if you don't get enough human interaction outside the apartment you'll basically just turn into a Neanderthal who can't remember what table manners are or whether it's socially acceptable to talk to yourself in public. Maybe that's why people become crazy old cat ladies. Were the cats an attempt at having someone around to make them feel self-conscious? That would explain why it would have to be cats, then. Nobody could be fooled into thinking a dog was judging them.

If I get a cat someday, don't judge me. I needed someone around to make me feel ashamed for wanting to listen to nineties music.

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