Sometimes you get out a knife and a cutting board and a plate and you take a block of cheese out of the fridge and unwrap it, and then you think to yourself, "Would what I'm thinking of doing be a celebration of the fact that I'm a grown-up with my own house and no one can stop me from living in a way that brings me joy, or would it be a sign that living alone is morphing me into a cave gremlin with no standards or decorum?" And then you do not take a big bite out of the unwrapped block of cheese, because you're pretty sure it's the second one.






















