I have been living on my own for 7 months now. When the boyfriend first left, I wrote this post which, looking back, clearly outlines my mixed emotions concerning this situation. 7 months later, I am not going to lie, I still have my shaky days. You know the ones where all you want is a hug and someone else on the sofa with you. But I have surprised myself too.
Yeh that's right, I knew where the tools were and fixed the squeaky bracket on the bed. All by myself. I've changed light bulbs, although that was a little dangerous because I don't have a ladder so had to stand on tip toe on a chair and pray I didn't fall, but sssssh don't tell the boyfriend I did that one.
And I killed my first cockroach. And let me tell you it was no baby. That was one monster bug just chilling out on my balcony. Of course, we never had a cockroach in the whole three years of living here and as soon as the boyfriend left, one came and paid me a visit. But I overcame that situation too.
I feel like I should be singing destinys child, independent women. And then this weekend the water mysteriously stopped flowing out of my taps and that was something I could not handle alone. Thank goodness for the boyfriends father, or 118 Chris as we call him. Seriously, he is like the yellow pages of Cyprus.
The moral of the story however, is that I can live alone and survive. But lets face it, I would much prefer not having to handle the blue jobs as well as the pink!