confessions of a solo-living lady:
date & time: wednesday evening, july 18th at approximately 8:57 p.m.
location: my living room & albertsons
there i sat, laptop on, uh, lap (obviously; also, that kind of rhymes) plugging away on a chapter of the book, the sounds and images of tuesday’s recorded what not to wear episode acting as my backdrop. and while productivity all but seemed to pour out of every vein (which, of course, i wasn’t complaining about), i couldn’t help but feel my eyelids begin to droop with every blink of the cursor across the screen.
coffee. i need coffee, i thought.
lucky for me, i had not one but TWO canisters in the freezer, all but happy to oblige me. and stevia! there was a full box of stevia in the cupboard as well. and while i would like to say that that would have been enough to get me into the kitchen and brewing my first cup, i knew that black coffee with a few sugar specks simply would not a satisfying caffeinated drink make. i needed cream. or well, its soy-based substitute. but i was by no means “grocery store appropriate” (which really means what exactly? i’m pretty sure if you’re wearing anything more than a hoodie and some homer simpson print pajama pants, you’re overdressed, but maybe that’s because i live in suburbia). sans makeup, hair still damp from my evening shower, i relaxed in my finest pair of booty shorts and a ripped-up tee. you know, classy.
but i really really wanted that coffee.
so i climbed the stairs to my room, exchanged those WAY too short for public drawers for a pair of boyfriend jeans and threw a fleece over my ragged tee. not a total betty but a vast improvement. and well, at least no one would know i wasn’t wearing, uh, (cough) support.
i jumped in my car and drove down the hill, not even bothering to turn off the tv upon my exit. lucky for me, there’s an albertsons not even a mile from my house, so my time away wouldn’t total more than a handful of minutes anyway. and once inside, i made a bee-line to the back wall to the refrigerators that house the lactose (and lactose free) gems, grabbed the baby carton of silk original creamer and returned to the front for self-check-out. $2.29 worth of creamy goodness and the ticket for a few more hours of writing on a wednesday evening.
and just like that i was home again, back in my booty shorts and sans winter outerwear. and as the coffee brewed in the kitchen, i couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. i would probably be the only person who would ever know that all of this had transpired, that i hadn’t worn a bra or make-up or even bothered to comb my hair when i ran to the grocery store for some coffee cream at almost nine o’clock at night. well me, and maybe that rogue employee at the back of the store stocking inventory.
but that’s the beauty of living alone, i suppose. no one ever has to know or be privy to the strange and possibly incriminating things you do as a solo-living gal. like, say, eating 3/4 of a gallon of unopened frozen yogurt in one sitting; yogurt that your boyfriend had left behind in your freezer for “safe keeping,” no less (sorry, babe!). (i mean, hypothetically, of course).
until you know, i decide reveal said stories to all of you. then that whole secrecy thing is moot, isn’t it? but i suppose that’s also an aspect of living sans housemate; sometimes you simply want to share your tales to someone other than your couch pillows (i mean, it’s kind of the reason i have a blog, right?).
no offense, couch pillows.0