"One is the quirkiest number..."

...unless you find someone just as quirky as you.
As an introvert, I spend much of my time contemplating life, the human condition, and psychology. Isn't that what we all do? Either way, I find articles like this from the Times particularly interesting. "The freedom, and perils, of living alone" fascinate me. And no Mom, it's not because I have an undesirable home life or don't love you, it's because well...I enjoy being alone. I'm fiercely independent (the way my mother raised me) and I am a Type A personality. I was a single child for most of my young life, and I am comfortable alone with my thoughts. When I was living alone, (extended house-sitting gig) I recognized in myself a lot of what the people in the article are talking about. I found myself singing and dancing more, talking to the dog despite the fact that I don't really have a strong attachment to animals, eating peanut butter at almost ever meal, and watching whatever television show I deemed appropriate for my mood. I also enjoyed doing my work in any area of the house because all was quiet and exceptionally tidy. Having my own space and the ability to make my own schedule was liberating.

All of that said, I don't exactly fear having a roommate the way I see some of the people interviewed here. I feel as if I'm a very self-aware person and I have gone through some major changes over the past two years or so.  During this transition in my life, I was alone most of the time. Yes, I lived at home, but I didn't reach out to my network of friends or colleagues, and I didn't have a boyfriend or someone close to me that I could share my ups and downs with. And I enjoyed that I only had myself to be accountable for. At times though, I became a recluse and isolated myself; there is a fine line between being alone and isolating oneself. Why do I care if someone sees me while I am sitting on the couch, eating peanut butter out of the jar, in my comfiest clothes, controlling the DVR?