Wake Up Alone and Like It!

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Friends, I have finally achieved Empty Nest. And a truly empty one it is; with Ross gone, it's just me and an eight-year-old cat manning the fort at chateau Hugo-Vidal. (Perhaps that ought to be manning the chateau at Fort Hugo-Vidal...)

The Smithie was out this past spring, moving in with her Very Tall Boyfriend, although her place was taken almost immediately by her friend Samantha, who lodged with me while she got up and running at her new Portland job and apartment-shopped. This took some time, mostly because the rental situation in our area closely resembles the Death Race scene in Mad Max Fury Road, with far too many contestants peeling ahead recklessly and doing anything to win.

Meanwhile, as you know, Youngest headed up north to the University of Maine in September, so although she's still "residing" at my house (honestly, tax agents who may be reading this blog!) I don't expect her to be here for more than a few weeks at a time from now on. She's already looking into a summer job...in Kosovo. We have dear friends who are Serbian, so that's going to be an interesting conversation.

Samantha finally found a terrific, affordable, safe rental and moved out the week before Thanksgiving, which gave me a week to clean, cook, pick up Youngest, etc. etc. I was so busy, it wasn't until the guests had all departed and Youngest was back up in Orono that it really struck me - I'm all alone.

And I like it!

Let me tell you - there are some nifty advantages to living on one's own. First and foremost: it's insanely easy to keep the place clean. I was worried about this, because for the past 24 years I've struggled to keep the giant dust bunnies and ghostly fingerprint buildup at bay. I used to consider the house well cared for if three of the five downstairs room were not embarrassingly messy and you couldn't smell any cat pee or dog barf. I always had the sneaking suspicion that my family was making most of the mess, and now I have proof - I'm keeping 3000 square feet tidy and dust-free in less time than it used to take me to do one load of laundry.

Which is another delightful change.  For years and years, I did at least one wash a day. Every day, and of course, that didn't count special, tiny little loads when someone's team uniform or only remaining school shirt was dirty. (Catholic school. regulation shirts.) Now? I'm only limited by the amount of clean underwear in my drawer. It takes me three weeks to get full white, colored and dark loads, and yes, that included the sheets. Heck, I used to have a whole basket each week comprised solely of face cloths and towels (for some reason I've never ascertained, the Sailor used THREE facecloths every time he cleaned his face.)

Of course, this means I'm probably going to wind up tasing my children to keep up standards when they're all home for Christmas.  Needs must, I suppose.

Some other benefits? Last night I made myself pearl couscous with roasted winter vegetables, feta cheese and walnuts. Every one of those ingredients would have raised an objection from at least one of my offspring, and my dear Ross, a man who thought all salads should include steak, chicken or bacon, would have asked, "Where's the beef?"

Also, unhitched from the demands of after-school rehearsals, homework, and 9 to 5 work weeks, I'm eating earlier these days. I like prepping dinner while there's still natural light in the kitchen. On the plus side, it's supposed to be good for you to get the bulk of your calories in early and have time to digest. On the minus side, I'm clearly just one pair of sensible shoes away from the 5pm senior citizen all-you-can-eat buffet.

There are a few quasi-negative aspects. I talk to myself these days. A lot. I haven't started losing arguments to myself, so I guess I'm still okay. Per my kids' request, I carry my phone with me whenever I go outside to haul wood or shovel snow - in case I Fall Down and Can't Get Up. And when I get take-out pizza, I can't pretend I'm doing it as a delightful treat for the kids - I have to own the fact I have a craving for ham and pineapple and run with it.

How about you, dear readers? Ever experience the upside of solitude? Or, surrounded by kids, cats and dogs, do you ever dream of what you'd do if you were left home alone?

Does size matter? Relax, we're talking houses.

JENN MCKINLAY

Rainbow over my house!

Hub and I bought our starter home, well, when we started eighteen years ago. We picked it because it was in a good school district, although, at this point the hooligans were still a theory and not a reality, and it had a pool, which was critical for this New Englander in the desert. It's a modest three bedroom home with a good sized yard, but if I need someone I can pretty much yell and be heard on the other side of the house. Yes, this is a plus point for me.

After ten years, we fully intended to sell and move into something larger, not much bigger but with an office for me since I was a paid writer at this point, but then the recession hit. The newspaper where Hub was a music editor folded, and the library where I worked part-time as a children's librarian slashed everyone's hours. Good times. Not. We decided to hunker down and ride it out.

The hooligans thrived and life got crazy busy, hectic with activities for them, deadlines for me, and gigs for Hub. Years passed. We debated moving on and off but something always came up and, quite frankly, Hub and I are both kind of lazy in the whole sorting and packing -- ye gad, we own a lot of stuff! -- department, so here we sit.

But now, we know it's time to get ready to do...something. In a few years, the nest will be empty. Since we move with the speed of a glacier (the ones that cruise at one meter/day not the swiftly melting ones), we figure we need to start fixing up the abode now and we might be ready to sell and make a change when the youngest one escapes us. Why the change? Well, we're both longing to live near water, so we're hoping for an oceanside or lakeside location. But here's the new dilemma - what do we buy next? We have no idea.

Darth Vader bathroom.

We like to rent VRBOs when we travel because you can try on different houses for size, like hats but with beds and junk. On our recent trip to Oregon, we rented a riverside house that was, frankly, ginormous because I got a smokin' good deal on it and we wanted a river view. We're talking three car garage, vaulted ceilings, a hot tub, three decks, a master bath that included a lounge chair, jacuzzi, and a ceiling of skylights that was pretty rad. Oh, and it had another bathroom that looked like it came right out of Star Wars so we made everyone hum Darth Vader's march when they went to the can because why not?

View of the Deschutes River from the deck.

There was a lot to love about the house, like the windows overlooking the river, but there was a feeling that whoever owned it had their self-esteem tied up in it. You know what I mean, those houses that say "look at me I have pots of money" instead of "welcome home". Personally, I will take light and airy, cozy and comfy, over showy and ostentatious every time. Truly, just the thought of walking up and down two flights of stairs to do laundry makes me tired. Needless to say, Hub and I knew right away that while this was a fun house to play in, we have no interest in owning anything this cumbersome. I think deep down we might be Hobbits.


While we fix up our house and get ready to launch the hooligans, we'll keep renting houses to check out places we think we might want to live. So far, Maine and Oregon are in the lead even as we'd like to keep a foot in Arizona. After this last rental, I think the size of the house will have to remain simple, environmentally friendly, and without a toilet that requires a sing-along.

What about you, Reds? What are your thoughts on house size? Are you a the-bigger-the-better type of dweller or a just-enough-space-to-get-away-from-my-people-when-necessary sort?