the lonliest number

When I decided to live at home with my mom and dad this semester I was prepared to live a much quieter life than the average college student usually does. No neighbors dropping in at 11pm on a weeknight with an invitation to play night games, no raucous music relentlessly pounding from the room upstairs, and not a single spur of the moment midnight music video-making experience. However, I was not expecting to be left at home all alone in this giant of a house for a few days every other week. All alone!! One begins to appreciate just how much others do in a house when left alone for an extended amount of time. For example, the fridge does not, depsite the intensity and frequency of wishing otherwise, fill itself. Nor does the dishwasher. And I have absolutely no one else to blame when lights are left on and doors left open. And I'll tell you what, the fun is really taken out of getting the mail every day when it's never for you. I find myself looking into my deserted living room before departing and muttering, "bye" to the couches, then telling them "hello" again as I return. I seriously considered bringing our bright orange lifesize stuffed man up from the basement and setting him up in my kitchen so I could actually converse with something with arms and legs, but unfortunately we are barred from entering our basement at present. Lest you think my solitary life has led me to stay at home crying silent tears and googling pictures of puppies, there are some good things about being all alone. Blasting Harry Potter on CD as loud as I want while showering, for example. And finding things when I come home from class exactly where I left them on the counter is always a nice surprise. ...That's pretty much it. I was not meant to live singly.