It’s funny how things have adjusted without Shawshank here. Some things are pretty noticeable. The water bill is half of what it was, as is gas for the Hot Mess Express, and groceries. Unfortunately, Hermit Girl is a fucking slob. Without Shawshank here to push me to clean and keep me from wallowing in my own filth, the house is in a perpetual state of disarray. Say what you will about how I’m doing awesome for doing it alone, the house is still a pig sty.
But, I’ve noticed something else lately. Whenever I talk about the house, I never imply ownership. It’s never my house, because it was always our house. We made this our home, together, and it was just as much mine as it was his. At the same time, it’s no longer our house. The person who helped to make it our house isn’t here. I feel like it’s no longer worthy of that title.
Instead, it’s always the house now.
And I hate the way that feels.
