I live alone. Full stop. No significant other, no roommate, no kids, no pets. Since San Francisco imposed its first shelter-in-place order back on March 17, the only living things to see the inside of my 700-square-foot Mission apartment are a new pothos plant (named Tony in honor of Dr. Fauci) and the occasional supermarket bouquet.

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Here’s the thing: I’ve always been quite content as a solo dweller. I still am. But I’d be lying if I didn’t acknowledge that these days — as we’re all forced to spend inordinate amounts of time at home — I’m examining my singleton living situation like never before. The upshot? What I normally love and hate about mono-habitation has only been amplified. Plus, a few unexpected blessings and bummers have also popped up while livin’ la vida lockdown. In no particular order, here they are.

Pro: No one to judge my bad pandemic habits

Eating way too many carbs. Going days without showering. Releasing my inner schlub. Pandemic habits are real. With the Grim Reaper looming, it hardly seems important to put the shoes in the closet, tidy the pile of papers, or make the bed. Here’s where living alone becomes an advantage: No one will ever see the extent of my mess. I’ve become an expert at determining what part of my apartment will appear in that little Zoom square, so I clean and curate accordingly. And if no one sees it, did I really eat the whole can of Pringles in one sitting?

Pro: Maskless teens and partying roommates? Not my headache.

It’s impossible not to be freaked out by the contagious nature of the coronavirus. The impact other people’s behavior can have on our own health is beyond scary. Which is precisely why sealing myself into my little box of wood and concrete makes me feel safe. I don’t have to fret over anyone else’s actions, unlike many of my friends, with fuller houses: They worry that the kids don’t wear their masks outside, that husbands don’t vigorously wash their hands, and that roommates act like social distancing is a hoax.

Con: No one to trudge to Trader Joe’s for me

I’m used to doing things for myself and by myself. In the Before Times, making regular trips to Safeway, Trader Joe’s, and Whole Foods wasn’t a big deal. During Covid-19, however, the act of buying food and being around others suddenly becomes seriously stressful. After several Instacart fails and nary a benevolent boyfriend, housemate, or family member in sight, I’m the one who has to go to the store every single time I want to eat. Feelings of woe is me take hold as I scream at exactly no one (except for anthropomorphic Tony) and then steel myself for the task: Hood up, mask on, and earphones in, I brave the TJ’s queue. The first time was the hardest. And even though I still experience bursts of fear and paranoia every time I grocery shop, I’m fine. Chocolate and cheap rosé always help.

Pro: Whether rewatching ‘Big Love’ in its entirety or streaming ‘Hamilton’ on repeat, the remote is mine

How do I love thee, Netflix, Amazon, Hulu, and HBO Max? Too many ways to count. Streaming services have saved me during the long, long days of these long, long months. Let’s face it: There are only so many hours one can spend working, FaceTime-ing with friends, and downward dogging. Binge-watching provides an escape into other worlds where deadly viruses don’t exist (side-eye to Contagion fans). Sure, I click though my share of buzzy new shows, but zen truly comes from rewatching old TV series like Felicity, Friends, and the original 90210, along with classic flicks like Bridget Jones’s Diary and The Breakfast Club. That no one’s here to make fun of my choices or steal the remote? 100 emoji.

Con: Sometimes I need a second pair of hands and another brain

When lockdown hit, I immediately jumped on the jigsaw puzzle bandwagon. The focus required to find those elusive pieces was exactly what I needed to tune out. But as the months tick by, completing new puzzles is getting harder. Pandemic brain is setting in. If only someone were here to help. This thought replays itself regularly but becomes ever heightened when I can’t fix or accomplish something on my own, like recently, when my MacBook Pro was acting up. In normal times, my techie bestie would come over. I’d be in awe as she’d fix the problem. Then we’d drink freshly brewed hazelnut coffee, chill on my couch, and laugh the day away. Heavy sigh.

Pro: I don’t have to share my takeout

During these stressful days and nights, food is my happy place. Like many, I’m finding solace in childhood faves (looking at you, boxed mac and cheese), old-school snacks like Oreos and Fritos, and takeout — lots and lots of takeout. The latter serves a dual purpose: One, I don’t really cook; two, I get to support local restaurants. Plus, I love me some leftovers. And unlike bygone days when I would wake up excited for a breakfast of cold pizza only to find the last slice already scarfed by my brother, a boyfriend, or roomie, I’m certain the fried chicken from Farmhouse Kitchen, PPQ garlic noodles, and doughnuts from Bob’s on Baker will be waiting for me in the morning. Covid-19 pudge, be damned.

Con: I can’t stop myself from falling down the rabbit hole of despair

One way I trick myself into thinking I’m not alone: Never sit in silence. From music and talk radio to podcasts and TV, something’s always playing in my house. Sound equals comfort—and company. Quarantine has tested this theory on more than one occasion: Sometimes, neither Renée Elise Goldsberry’s rousing vocals nor the familiar banter of Jennifer Aniston and Courteney Cox can keep me from spiraling out of control. Rapid-fire thoughts flow: What If I get Covid-19? They say I have the most susceptible blood type. I could die alone and no one would know. I haven’t met my person yet. I’ve never eaten at State Bird Provisions. These episodes range in duration from 10 minutes to a couple hours. Eventually, my brain gets tuckered out as I catch a glimpse of smiley family photos or spy a puzzle piece under the couch. I’m okay. I got this. Where the Pringles at?

Pro: No pressure to go out if I don’t want to

As a self-employed single person living alone, my social life depends on plans. Translation: My Google Calendar is a bridge to humankind. I adore and despise plans. You see, as both an INFJ and a Gemini, my mood swings from craving company to needing solitude. Except for a bunch of Zoom chats, the only IRL plans I’ve had since March are a couple of socially distant walks and one outdoor lunch. Of course, seeing my pals in the flesh reminds me how much I miss them. Still, I am relieved that there’s no pressure to socialize right now. Pre-lockdown, my homebody ways were often decried — now I’m just doing the right thing by staying in. Only time will tell if I’ll ever have the chance again to craft another creative excuse for ditching the (indoor) dinner date or bailing on the party. Fingers crossed.

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