spinster woes

I have lived alone in my current apartment for nine years. I had a roommate for the year before that, but the three years prior to that, I lived alone. So for 12 of the past 13 years, I have lived alone. I like living alone. Yes, I am responsible for all the chores all the time. On the other hand, the only messes I have to clean up are those I make. I don't have to worry about privacy or about anyone eating the best leftovers. I never have to wait for the bathroom. I can sleep when I want and where I want. If I want to stack these mugs in this way (but never, ever stack those mugs in any way), that's okay. In short, I have a lot of freedom and I am very accustomed to it.

Sometimes, of course, when I am feeling lonely or overwhelmed, I wish there was someone to make me a plate of eggs. Eggs are simple and fast and require very little work to prepare or clean up. But that's not quite the point. Sometimes everything is just exhausting and even though you can in fact (and will, in fact) do everything for yourself (not least because it must be done and there is no one else to do it), it would just be nice to have someone take care of you a little bit, for just a little while. So you could feel relieved and grateful. So you could feel a little of that half-anxiety where you feel guilty for letting someone take care of you when your limbs are whole, your health is fine, and no one has died--guilty but also thankful and loved and lucky. I am thankful and loved and lucky, and I feel those things frequently. But I have to go and make my own plate of eggs now. I have to do the dishes, wash the counters, clear off the table, and then cook the eggs, scoop them on a plate, and serve them to myself. And it's not the same. Not the same at all.