Tonight I will lie alone in the bed as the default for the last time husband gets sick of me? Or gets sick and dies? Or vice versa? Whatever. No one lives forever. Sometimes people get divorced, but I hope that doesn't happen to us. The point is I can't eat dinner in my bed while watching 30 Rock AGAIN unless I'm sick or avoiding him while he watches Game of Thrones, the show I hate that everyone else loves.

So goodbye, solitude, goodbye, ordering pizza and sushi for a week straight. Goodbye to drinking wine instead of dinner, because there will be a pair of eyes to judge me, love me, and keep me in line. Goodbye to doing it all myself. Goodbye to coming home and doing absolutely nothing rather than yoga or walking the dog or surfing the Internet. I'm getting married (and his moving in is essentially that) to nudge myself in the right direction. Everyone is different and I'm a person who has enjoyed living alone, but it's gone on a little too long now. Being an adult is hard. I'm a spaz. I need someone who has been doing it for a little while to show me that you don't throw groceries in cabinets in a random fashion or let dishes pile up until there are several species of mold growing in the sink. I admit it: I need a chaperone. I'm very lucky to have found one that is sweet, funny, patient, and a lot less messy than I am.

I anticipate nights when his big tall presence will irritate the fuck out of me, and I will just want to get into bed and watch Netflix and eat cheese and crackers. I will miss the silence and wonder if he's okay in a house I picked out containing all my things and only some of his. His attempts to live in a civilized household and not a messy hovel will get on my nerves so badly that I will stomp out to my car and drive to Rachel's.

More than anything I will miss singing, pretending to audition for the Voice with or without guitar, and the moment when I put something somewhere it isn't supposed to be to indulge my laziness. But I'm getting a lot in return.