I’m not going to lie to y’all, being single this past year or so has been pretty kick ass. Think of all the things I don’t have to worry about: no one hogging up the bed, no one to share the bathroom with, no worries about someone breaking my fiestaware, and on and on.

But now someone has come along who I am seriously considering sharing my life with again. I know I should be worried about the ‘big’ things. You know, will my kids like him and are we a good enough match to spend 24 hours a day together.

But, c’mon, this is me we are talking about. Screw the big stuff. It is the small little details that will send me over the edge. Because I SWEAR to GOD, the first time he sets a glass on my 50 year old coffee table, there will be MURDER. Bloody, bloody, murder.

And I have NO room in my closet for all of my clothes, how is someone else supposed to fit their stuff in there?

I know I have complained and kvetched for almost two years on how exhausting being single is, but I’m beginning to worry that not being single will be more irritating.

GODDAMN IT.