I live by myself. I come in the door, I can throw my stuff on the floor. I can leave the dishes.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
I live alone, with cats, books, pictures, fresh vegetables to cook, the garden, the hens to feed.
I like living on my own. I'm happy for a man to come over. I'll cook for him; he can spend the night occasionally, but then I want him to leave. I'm too independent.
All my day is spent dealing with other people. When I come home I like it to be empty. The presence of others in my house kind of annoys me. I love coming home and shutting the doors. I feel brain dead. I'm relatively available, but not to live with.
I used to like to break into other people's houses and sit in their rooms. I found it very comforting to be in someone's empty house.
I can clean my own house. Now, maybe a couple of times a year we have a cleaning crew come in before we have a party, but otherwise, I'm able to maintain it myself.
I'm a weirdo. I don't leave the house unless I have to.
I hardly even leave my own house.
I live with my mum and my nan. I think I will leave eventually, but not at the moment when they look after me so well. If you came to my house, they'd make you eat something.
In my household, everything happens in the kitchen. My parents have this pretty big home, and it doesn't matter how big it is, we will all squeeze ourselves in the kitchen and just chat while my mom or dad cooks.
I don't like being in houses alone.