I’m in my apartment for 95% of my life. I only go out for food and medicine, and that’s only if I can’t get it delivered, or if I need it urgently. I shop for the whole month, so I usually end up having around 85 bags, all in all. I’ve had my car for nine years, and it only has about 40,000 miles on it. I’ve done the math, and that amounts to about twelve miles a day. On days that I don’t feel well, that’s definitely an overestimate.
I wash my clothes once or twice a year. This year, I’ve only showered twice. The longest I’ve ever gone without a shower is 96 days. I’m not really concerned about whether I smell, because I’m seldom around people. If company ever finds me, I keep my distance. But that’s rare, you know. The only person that’s come to see me in the last few years has been my landlord (to pick up checks), and the delivery guy (to drop of food, and pick up checks). Basically, all I’m good for is the money.
My biggest everyday concern is whether I have enough to eat, and whether today is the day I will be found dead in my apartment. I don’t have cats, so at least I know I won’t be partially eaten when I’m found. That may sound morbid, but it’s a practical concern for someone like me. I don’t have a maid because I don’t want anyone coming in to see the state of the apartment. I try to clean up after myself, but that’s difficult seeing as my condition is oftentimes debilitating.
Head over to Quartz to read the rest! Also, subscribe if you want to get little reminders in your mailbox when one of these stories is published.