This wasn’t always a candidate for the answer. I grew up in a situation where I’d alternately be begging to go home and then the next day I’d want to be anywhere but. I still bear the marks of that time, but this is a lighter day, a brighter time, and I’m not going to put a damper on the day by going back there.
My job is an exhausting one, and by the end of the day there is nothing more that I’d like to do than just go home and flop over onto the side of the bed (and sometimes I don’t even get that far, as tired as I get after a shift of hauling laundry, making beds, and generally rendering a portion of the hotel I work at presentable and rentable for the guests). I live on my own, which means that everything that has to be done has to be done by me—I get to do MORE housekeeping, my own cooking, and the like.
But that means I get to do my own housekeeping and my own cooking and the like. 🙂
I love not having to answer to other people’s whims when it comes to doing things that I want—you have no idea how much I danced around when I found out that I got this place for myself and wouldn’t have to deal with the peanut gallery anytime that I wanted to eat something that wasn’t—well, let’s just say that my tastes in food can run a bit underground, and having to listen to family members insisting that my taste in food is strange and that “we” didn’t eat such things because that wasn’t part of our heritage? That got old quick.
You may have noticed that I seem to mention food a lot in these posts. Well, to be fair, I do like food. I’m a 167lb woman, tiny in some places and bigger in others, and because of my metabolism I had to deal with the problem of eating enough in a day to make sure that I didn’t just drop off to the point of turning around and vanishing.