Home(s)

I'm the type of person that really enjoys having alone time. I only have one sibling and we both had our own rooms growing up. My parents allowed us a lot of privacy because they both worked and for the most part respected our private space.
When I first moved to New York six and 1/2 years ago I lived in student housing (aka: a dirty little closet with a bunk bed) with a nice enough girl from the UK. It was a big change. When I finally moved into an apartment it was a rodent infested two bedroom converted to a three. We had very little space and it was hard not to fight because we couldn't get away from each other. It didn't help that one of the roommates was a close-talker and we would have to physically hold her back with our arms. When we realized we had mice I stopped sleeping and made myself sick. We had to move.

Luckily I went on tour for three months (living in a van and hotel rooms) and when I got back I moved with one roommate to queens. This wasn't so bad. Our dumb ass super never turned on the heat in the winter so we were always freezing but at least we didn't have infestations. We were in a two story house. At one point the apt below us had a fire in their closet. I had just walked out of the apartment to the deli and by the time I got back the place was surrounded by fire trucks. They had axed down our door and all of the windows. My roommates bed was covered in glass, our windows were all boarded up, and our new front door/piece of wood was locked shut with padlocks. Meaning, we had to come and go together. The "fire" was just smoke. We were done with Queens.
At the end of that year we decided we needed to be back in Manhattan and somehow a two bedroom for less rent than our Queens apartment was located via Craigslist on the Upper East Side. This was new territory for both of us but it was the perfect amount of space and the six floor walk up made our legs stay in great shape. Here is the proof.

Living on the UES forces you to get used to taking buses which is a big step in Manhattan living. Until you learn the bus system you don't ever bother going across town. You would consider the other side of Central Park non existent. We lived in that apartment together for two years until June last year when I finally had the opportunity I have longed for my entire life. Living alone!

It was finally financially possible for me to get an apartment by myself in a safe neighborhood. It's wonderful. It is the tinniest place ever and I should never have more than three people in in at once but it's mine. It's my stuff and it's always empty when I get there. I love coming home to my empty apartment where if there is a mess it is never unexpected. It's my food and my space and I'm all alone to do whatever odd things I please. All this sounds wonderful but I have developed a new problem. I find that I never want to leave. What if I become some sort of Anti-Social freak and my old friends would have to come drag me out physically? Creepy.
I wonder what will happen next? I don't forsee upgrading any time in the next several years. Will I stay where I am? Who knows. Life is a crapshoot.