Solitude

I was cleaning the kitchen the other day - my efforts to avoid work sometimes inspire me to extraordinary lengths - and noticed something unusual before I even got started. The stovetop was clean.

Ok, not exactly clean. It was a little dusty. But it was a far cry from what it used to be when Dear Husband lived here - it always seemed to be spattered with splotches and sauce no matter how often I cleaned it.

I can't really complain - no one benefitted more than I did from those stovetop spatters. DH was adept at whipping up gourmet meals on the spur of the moment that smelled and tasted delicious. His food smelled so savory that neighbors would sometimes linger outside our apartment, arrested by the tantalizing aromas.

But with that good food came big messes. I got used to finding cheesecake batter on the kitchen cupboards and crust on the cutting board. I got into the habit of following him around on his kitchen adventures with a sponge in my hand.

Since I discovered DH's Secret Life, my food intake has become a lot more boring. My staples have shifted lately from coffee and candy to diet coke and string cheese. I order a lot more takeout. But at the same time, cleaning the kitchen has become a hell of a lot easier.

Other things have changed too. The television isn't on every waking minute, constantly flipping between channels in search of that one elusive program worth watching for more than a nanosecond. There's a lot more music in my life, and a lot more silence. A lot more reading. A lot more contemplation.

It's helped me to remember why I've lived alone nearly all of my adult life. Other than shacking up with a man for a couple of years in my mid-20s, I've never even really had a roommate. Sure, it can get lonely at times, especially when you work at home with no one to talk to other than the dogs. But I think the benefits outweigh the liabilities. I've lost five pounds. I can hear myself think. I haven't had to watch even one minute of the Food Network in the past two months. But the best thing is that I'm not living a lie anymore. And if I'm careful, I'll never have to again.