How to Unlock Your Best Life: Move The Fuck Out!

If you've been reading any of my recent blog posts, a consistent theme has surely cropped up and that has been the desire for me to have my own place to live. A few weeks ago, I actually signed a lease on a new studio apartment - for real.

Nestled in a lovely Stepford-esque neighborhood just south of where I work in Lowertown, this ground level unit is running me less than $700 a month and has freshly painted white walls, newly refinished floors, surround sound speakers and well....excellent water pressure. Because that's important.

Last weekend, I started moving in and it was an adventure:

One member of my moving party cancelled on me the morning of - due to a hangover - and while I was initially bummed at not having her large SUV at my disposal, I made the best of the situation in order to move 80% of my personal belongings via two car trips. A huge shout-out to my cousin and her boy for the assist. And a special thank you to Angie who was battling a hangover of her own and somehow managed to creep her way up into the cities to help nonetheless.

Having spent the last decade tied up with roommates or live-in partners, I was admittedly a little terrified to suddenly have all this space to myself. I worried that it would be too quiet, that I would feel lonely and isolated, or that I would somehow feel unsafe without the security of always having someone else around...

Here are a few things I've discovered about living alone:

It's good to feel lonely. Now hear me out - if I didn't feel this way sometimes while sitting in my apartment, I would honestly never leave. You'd have to come to me, in all my hermit crab glory (probably situated on the couch with a blanket, unhealthy snacks and bottomless Netflix queue), and coax me into some form of human interaction. Neither of us are ready for that intervention, so it's a good sign that I'm experiencing loneliness.

I'm actually taking the initiative to make plans with people. I know, I know....who is she?

You need more than beer in your fridge to stay alive. Maybe you live on a strict diet of black coffee and cigarettes, and a case of beer would be a welcome addition to your kitchen. That's not me - I like food. Yes, I have a tumultuous relationship with it, but now I have this entire fridge all to myself and I can fill it with anything I want.

Also, my leftovers aren't going to mysteriously disappear overnight. Hopefully.

My apartment will always be clean. I'm a fairly tidy adult person. It wasn't always this way of course, but as I've gotten older and streamlined the amount of stuff I own, I've discovered that it's just easier to pick up after myself when I'm done using something.

And if I'm too tired or in a depression rut, the good news is that when I do finally feel like cleaning up, it's only my own messes to deal with.

The beer that *is* in the fridge? All mine.

I can sing in the shower. It won't even matter how terrible or off-key I sound. It's only me and with concrete walls in my building, even my neighbors won't be subjected to that horror show!

~Guests do not have to be cleared for an overnight stay.~

I can go to sleep whenever I want. I will no longer have to toss and turn until the wee hours because my roommate insists on playing the same Father John Misty tunes (or worse, the Beach Boys) at full volume. I will not miss the thumping bass coming from the other side of the wall.

Clothing is optional. If I want to make instant ramen in my kitchen or fry up eggs in my birthday suit, I don't have to worry about offending or enticing anyone's eyes. I suppose this also implies that I can shower with the bathroom door open. Stand nude in front of my closet while I agonize over date outfits...

No more emotional labor. If you've ever had to sit up and listen to your guy friend cry over his beer because his lady friend hasn't texted him back in three days, you know what I'm talking about. If you've ever had to patiently explain, for the millionth time, how to preheat the oven to a dude, then you know what I'm referring to. It feels so gloriously freeing to not be subjected to that anymore....

Now that I'm on my own and managing a fortress of solitude, I really do feel like I'm on a path to living my best life. I should have done this years ago.