It only takes a trip to somewhere worse to appreciate coming home to a place one was initially glad to leave.
I’ve been doing that a lot recently, but switching between going to somewhere worse and to somewhere better, constantly flipping my perspective back and forth (and, ultimately, leaving me moving in no real direction at all most of the time).
I think I have reasoned well enough that I want always to have someone living with me. There is too much that I miss out on by living alone, I don’t want to do it again. Most of my time living alone, I make efforts to find ways not to be home alone (or at least feel like I am at home alone). My own bedroom and bathroom is plenty of alone space for me, for my nighttime relaxation and settling down. I want common spaces to be common spaces. Plus, without someone around, how else do I keep the place cleaned up, huh? I’m too comfortable with clutter, to accustomed to it, to do anything about it until it gets really bad.
Life is just easier with someone else always coming around. And the easiest way to have someone come around is to have someone living here, you know?
Yeah, I want a flatmate forever. 🙂