Living alone has turned out to be a relatively pleasant surprise.
Mostly because I never knew the joy of walking around in my tank top and underwear.
My friends, there is great joy in this for me because Texas is the hottest freaking place to live in the world. Not only is it hot, but it is fucking hot because of the freaking buildings that somehow create a new sun. A hotter sun in the middle of the city.
Therefore, when I come home, and I immediately throw off whatever work clothes I have on down to my tank top and my underpants.
At first, it felt wrong, and my conservative modest childhood household rules were still bearing down on me. I would think thoughts like “Oh no what if someone comes to the door,” or “What if there is a fire.” Now I am like, “Who cares?” It is like my bathing suit. Besides no one comes to my door other than Lee Ella, and I just wrap a sheet around my bottom half. Which by the way I am pretty sure Lee Ella hates.
It is especially fun to dance around in my underwear. How liberating.