The return of the woman without bras

Paul Westerberg’s “Man Without Ties” just came on Kathleen Turner Overdrive. It’s a cute little song about a single guy who can’t cook and has no job, no wife, and no ties.

Man without ties don’t dress for dinner
It’s a friday night frozen pizza thing
Don’t want no wife or no beginner
Friday frozen pizza king

In my mind I have decided that the female equivalent to the man without ties is a woman without bras. Which is what I have become once again. Now that Sister #4 is in Udaho, I’m back to being a woman without bras. My feeling of freedom is nearly overwhelming. It as though I’ve been released from some sort of captivity.

Everything you buy is soon expired
Some neighbors are thinking that you’re gay
Others they assume that you’ve been fired
See you smoking cigarettes all day

While I love my little sister, it wasn’t until she was actually gone that I realized how very much I did not like living with her. And to be fair, it wasn’t her specifically. I don’t think I would like living with anyone.

It’s only been one night but already the sense of relief is amazing. Even though I was emotionally and physically exhausted by the time I got home from having dinner with Kelly, I still found the energy to start cleaning the house.

I have never, in my entire life ever ever ever decided that 9:30 was a good time to start cleaning house. But now, it’s my house. It’s my house.


There really are no words that I can find that will describe the incredible sense of utter contentment I have right now. I live by myself in a house that is mine.

I’m so fucking grown up.

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