Slowly but surely, you can adjust to living alone. At my age and living where I do, I encounter more women who are divorced or widowed than men. The gender might make a difference in how we adjust, but I think there are many similarities.
One of the challenges is cooking and eating alone. I've heard people talk about this as a significant problem. For me, it hasn't been a problem for a couple of reasons. I have to plan my meals to a certain extent since I walk a couple of blocks to the grocery store. I have a cart to transport my groceries home. Both of these are reasons why I can only purchase so much in one trip.
On the flip side, I don't have to satisfy anyone else's preferences. I probably eat better meals now that I'm alone because not only can I plan better, but I can eat two meals a day instead of shoehorning three meals.
The other reason it's easier for me to deal with mealtime is I love to cook. I don't look at it as a chore. Not only do I enjoy it, but I'm also pretty good at it. Given that I work in a galley kitchen about twice the size of a phonebooth. I've learned how to minimize the need for multiple dishes. For instance, I was pulling together a recent dinner. I had the pasta cooking in a pot on the four-burner gas stove, the chicken was coming out of the oven, and the vegetables were in the microwave.
I have noticed that I acquiring habits I will have to change if I ever get an apartment big enough to entertain guests. I have a pet peeve about the food that migrates to the threading on reclosable bottles. I could wipe the peanut butter, pasta sauce, or honey from the outside of the jar with a paper towel. Now I just wipe it clean with my finger and then lick the stuff off my digit. You might want to consider that if I offer you a potion of my peanut butter sandwich.
I most assuredly dress for comfort in the absence of scrutiny. One of my challenges is that my wardrobe is sized for a guy that was me at 220 lbs. I am now at 180. If I could afford it, almost everything I currently own would go to Goodwill. But again, that problem is only when I'm going out. Inside the friendly confines of my apartment...well, you really don't want to know.
PS: Sadly, this week, I found out why my friend Whiney Gould was not returning my phone calls. She has passed away. I approached Whiney for guidance when I was editing Historic Milwaukee's quarterly "Echo." (Since discontinued) She became a friend. I loved to just sit and talk to her. Her breadth of expertise on so many subjects and the people she could call on was impressive.
Witney was a well-known person in Milwaukee. I seldom talked about our relationship because I felt like I was name dropping. It turns out anybody that knew her well was aware of how she made people like me feel welcome and essential to her circle. Hers undoubtedly was a life well-lived. We are all a little bit poorer with her passing.
One of the challenges is cooking and eating alone. I've heard people talk about this as a significant problem. For me, it hasn't been a problem for a couple of reasons. I have to plan my meals to a certain extent since I walk a couple of blocks to the grocery store. I have a cart to transport my groceries home. Both of these are reasons why I can only purchase so much in one trip.
On the flip side, I don't have to satisfy anyone else's preferences. I probably eat better meals now that I'm alone because not only can I plan better, but I can eat two meals a day instead of shoehorning three meals.
The other reason it's easier for me to deal with mealtime is I love to cook. I don't look at it as a chore. Not only do I enjoy it, but I'm also pretty good at it. Given that I work in a galley kitchen about twice the size of a phonebooth. I've learned how to minimize the need for multiple dishes. For instance, I was pulling together a recent dinner. I had the pasta cooking in a pot on the four-burner gas stove, the chicken was coming out of the oven, and the vegetables were in the microwave.
I have noticed that I acquiring habits I will have to change if I ever get an apartment big enough to entertain guests. I have a pet peeve about the food that migrates to the threading on reclosable bottles. I could wipe the peanut butter, pasta sauce, or honey from the outside of the jar with a paper towel. Now I just wipe it clean with my finger and then lick the stuff off my digit. You might want to consider that if I offer you a potion of my peanut butter sandwich.
I most assuredly dress for comfort in the absence of scrutiny. One of my challenges is that my wardrobe is sized for a guy that was me at 220 lbs. I am now at 180. If I could afford it, almost everything I currently own would go to Goodwill. But again, that problem is only when I'm going out. Inside the friendly confines of my apartment...well, you really don't want to know.
PS: Sadly, this week, I found out why my friend Whiney Gould was not returning my phone calls. She has passed away. I approached Whiney for guidance when I was editing Historic Milwaukee's quarterly "Echo." (Since discontinued) She became a friend. I loved to just sit and talk to her. Her breadth of expertise on so many subjects and the people she could call on was impressive.
Witney was a well-known person in Milwaukee. I seldom talked about our relationship because I felt like I was name dropping. It turns out anybody that knew her well was aware of how she made people like me feel welcome and essential to her circle. Hers undoubtedly was a life well-lived. We are all a little bit poorer with her passing.
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