B has gone for the week up north to visit her mother. I'm living alone and loving it. I'll probably get enough solitude to really relax.

And, for all intents and purposes, I am separated from N, who is living in the VA assisted living facility, so you could call me a single woman. I am so grateful for how it worked out.

I suppose part of the pleasure may result from the contrast with cohabitation, which, no matter how compatible the people involved, requires adjustment and flexibility. I'm tired of compromise.

Here is a list of some things I love about living alone:

1. Those little lobster/rice rolls are mine and mine alone and waiting for me to do a refrigerator raid for lunch. No sharing.

2. The kitchen table has my stuff only on it: a book, a crossword puzzle, a couple of writing implements, and my glasses. Not a whole bunch of someone else's stuff, tossed helter-skelter.

3. I can stay up and read in the living room, with the light as bright as I please. And I can turn off EVERY light when I go to bed.

4. I can take a shower whenever I want to (due to the weird plumbing can't shower when other shower is running, or lawn watered or laundry washing or dishwasher running).

5. I don't have to tiptoe in the morning for fear of waking up a late sleeper.

6. I can cook whatever I want for dinner, when I want to, without asking if something's ok, and when do you want to eat.

7. If I truly lived alone, I could have a dog.

8. I can rearrange the furniture to suit myself.

9. I can sleep across the bed, diagonally, and not have to accommodate anyone else's position--or snoring.

10. I can set the temperature (a/c or heat) to suit my preference. (I'm a polar bear, and very few people like the cold the way I do.)

11. I don't have to act in inauthentic ways--if I feel happy, I can sing; if I feel meditative, I can be quiet. If I don't feel sociable, I don't have to fake it. I can be myself. I don't have to worry about hurting someone's feelings because of the expression on my face or the quickness of my wit.