Living Alone

For someone who has never lived away from family or friends for a single day of my life, living alone seemed to conjure up several romantic ideas.
Waking up when I want. Eat what I want, when I want. Drink at home. Stay out late without making up excuses.
And yes, all of that came true! But the romance of the proposition has long faded in the past 4 months.
Reality bites and hurts with a thud on the bum.
Waking up, whenever I choose to, now depends on pangs of hunger or the maid banging on the front door early in the morning. I eat what I want now, but most of the times there is nothing to eat. And I end up making snacks a full-fledged meal. As the month stretches over 30 tedious days, novelty of the snacks fizzles off with the fast depleting inflow of cash.
So soon the leftovers from the refrigerator come out. They are fancifully laid out on slices of bread and topped with lots of ketchup.
What I have gathered from these few months of experience is this – food – something I had, until now, considered a very inconsequential part of my daily routine [since my mom took care of preparing it religiously 3 times a day, in addition to keep them delicious and nutritious] has suddenly begun to rule the roost.
Oh and those awful read meals or Tiffin’s – they can drive back home the most flexible and non-fussy eater. Trust me!