Living Alone

1994 – 2016 = Lived with my parents and brother

2016 – 2018 = Lived with 3 friends in a 4 bedroom house off campus

2018 – 2021 = Lived with an average of 2 people

2022 = Vishee is off on her own

As soon as I started working almost 4 years, I really wanted to live alone. After living at home through undergrad and then living with 3 others for grad school (as amazing as they were), I felt like I’d seen enough of society and wanted to commit to the only-one-name-on-the-lease lifestyle. I had romanticized the idea of having a space that is entirely my own that I could decorate with whatever weird puzzle art and whacko colors I liked and pots and pans arranged in the exact order that I preferred them. I however did not think too much about the process of physically moving and assembling the furniture that I so lovingly ordered.

Over the last two years, especially with COVID and all, I created a cook something fancy for myself tradition for Friday nights. I’d make my meal (often pizza) and watch TV either in my room or with my roommate as she ate her meal. I romanticized being in my own kitchen and having every night be that Friday night. Unfortunately, it didn’t occur to my brilliant and organized mind that living along also meant eating alone. Every time I cooked, I always budgeted at least two portions not for me because I loved feeding others just as much as I didn’t enjoy leftovers. Now it’s no sharing and all leftovers.

I have been eating some pretty incredible food over the past couple of weeks but I have also been trying to master the art of cooking in small portions and reinventing leftovers. The other day I made Spanakopita for 1 with some leftover phyllo pastry from a time many moons ago when I drunk baked some egg puffs, spinach and goat’s cheese. Fair warning – I don’t really know how to make a Spanakopita and I didn’t read a recipe. Sauteed some spinach, onions and garlic in a pan with salt and pepper. When 3562718 leaves of spinach reduced to 7, I mixed in the feta. I spread the mixture on the bits of phyllo in a bread pan, covered it up with whatever was left and baked it till it was brown . Couldn’t have shared even if I wanted to.

On some days I do enjoy the frothy hot cocoa while stretched out on my couch by myself. On other days, I miss the ice cream that’s always in the fridge or the heating pad that lived in my room, neither of which I ever purchased. I did however have to purchase the not-the-cheapest rent insurance because I chose to live in a heritage building made of bricks and not cardboard.

There are times I’m in the shower or lying down when I suddenly think of a random anecdote about my toe nail growing weird or a new nail polish color I must have but it’s just me and my silence and no one to share. It’s been around 2 months since I made the solo dive and I think I made the right decision for me. I love it so much. There are weird things I miss that I never actively thought about but doesn’t take away from how much I love the experience. But maybe still too early to call? Maybe the lack of ice cream will be the death of me? Will keep you posted.