Lone Ranger

I'm housesitting for the summer...er, shall I say plantsitting. Why I agreed to keep plants alive for 3 months, I have no idea. I'm a notorious plant-killer. Grandma loves her plants. Bad combination. There was no interview, or I wouldn't be here writing this. So far, only a few have been lost but are making a surprise comeback!

Flying solo in the Rocky Mountains is decidedly less exciting than I hoped. I used to think I was an introvert with extrovert tendencies, but I'm thinking it's the other way around. It's definitely not as great to have fun by yourself as it is to do it with someone. Dinner is a joke. I stocked up the first week with all these grand plans to cook for myself, only to make it to Friday with a tub of wilted lettuce, some bad tomatoes and one lonely piece of leftover quiche. Eating across the table from Empty just doesn't have the same allure.

Living alone is wonderful for doing things at your own pace and with your own style. I can read, clean, groove, make coffee, come and go, whenever and however I like. It's terrible for laughter, interesting conversation, and spur of the moment bike rides. It's terrible if I choke. It's terrible if I break my legs. It's awesome if I just need to get away. It's perfect for enjoying the simple things. 

In the end, living alone has its ups and downs, just like everything else. I am second-guessing my dream of getting my own apartment, and unless things improve, it will be awhile before I plant my own garden. And I continue to learn that the grass is green on the other side, but it's green here too.