My décor is exactly how I like it, I don’t have to use any of the top shelves if I don’t want to, and nobody has to know how many sailors slept over last night. I can categorize my skirts by length, have bourbon for dinner, or only change the sheets upon the changing of the seasons.
But I don’t really take full advantage. I don’t know whether it's because I’m a recovering housewife, my inner Miss Priss is a domineering witch, or I've lost my ability to really grab life by the man-parts. But today’s post by Lemmonex made me think of all the living alone clichés I have yet to embrace:
I don’t walk around in my underpants. Nor do I dance around naked to Justin Timberlake. (I do dance around to "Mmmmmbop" while fully clothed.)
I don’t let the dishes pile up until they ooze their way across the entire apartment.
I don’t eat tacos over the sink.
I don’t drink milk out of the carton.
Worst of all, I CLOSE THE BATHROOM DOOR. Sometimes, I even lock it.
That last one makes me squirm with embarrassment. I am, amazingly enough, grossed out by the fact that I am not gross enough.
Does anyone have suggestions on how I can make my loner lifestyle a little more disgusting? Have you ever developed any living alone mannerisms, and exactly how icky are they? Scale of 1-10?