The Good With the Bad – Installment 2

What a difference one person makes.  A while back, I listed the pros and cons of living alone and have since enjoyed some time to reflect.  Again, ending on a high note.


  • There is no one to rub my back for two damn minutes. Do you know how hard it is to train a five year-old to apply pressure in just the right spot?
  • Dovetailing on the back rub – sunscreen. How the hell am I supposed to reach all the way back there? A five-year old just phones it in.  Subsequently I will get skin cancer on one narrow stripe between my shoulder blades.
  • I’m on my own when it comes time to flip the mattress. I can do it, but it’s not pretty.
  • There is no one to check the basement during a rainstorm or after a nightmare. It’s all me. I end up just laying there in total denial until I rationalize myself back to sleep.  The basement hasn’t flooded the last six times it rained, why would it now? The homicidal maniac/zombie would have made more noise by now; maybe it’s just my time.
  • Every single light bulb burns out during approximately the same week. And most require the assistance of a chair.


  • I hired out the grass cutting. For seriously cheap. Nothing better than coming home to a job well done without any “favors,” if you get my drift.
  • Less methane in the house. I will leave it at that.
  • The girls outnumber the boys in this house so it doesn’t matter where the glitter ends up.  On the couch, on the doorknob, on my eyelid.
  • Have since figured out how to apply sunscreen to my own back. I put it on the back of my hands and contort my arms into reverse namaste and start flapping around. I guess I could buy the spray-on kind now that I think about it.

He got the Netflix account and the Rolling Stone subscription. I got the iMac, the fondue pot and a good therapist.  Who’s the winner now, suckers.


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