Who am I kidding, there's no such thing as sleep anymore. There's only long naps squeezed in shortly before dawn after a night of drifting and thrashing and thinking when, really, I should have just stayed up writing through the melatonin haze to satiate my word addiction.

Would it be easier if there was a human sleeping next to me? A lulling snore vibrating out of a warm body that smells all nice like soap and sex? Or would it limit my thrashing range, prevent me from bunching and wadding up the covers and curling up on top of them like a dog at 6am? These are important things to consider when contemplating the maintenance of long term single life.

Single. It's great. Single means I can jump in the car and drive for hours on end to visit three different rinks in Washington without having to answer to anybody.

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_{Downtown Bellevue, Washington. Seasonal overpriced pop-up rink.}

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_{Winthrop, Washington. Seasonal outdoor rink for skating and hockey. Totally awesome to skate on.}

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_{Spokane, Washington. Numerica Ice Ribbon. Also Seasonal. Also my favorite because it has a downhill and uphill and kids half my age doing ice freestyle in hockey skates like me. Might have to go back.}

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Single also means I'm the only one doing the driving on those single lane icy mountain roads going from one town to the next when the sun sets at 4.

But single means there's nobody telling me how to drive and I can go as slow as I want and the person behind me can go fuck themselves until a passing lane opens up.

Single means having nobody to share the spectacular view of the Northern Cascades in the moonlight on this crisp, clear night, save for the friendly young guy in the 4-runner who stutters a reply when I remark on how gorgeous the vista is.

Thanks, stranger, for reminding me just how much power a moonlit girl can wield over another wandering soul.

Single also means there's nobody to help me unload the car when I get home. Nobody to help me do the dishes or take out the trash or split the cost of gas. Single is not synonymous with freedom. Not financially, and not when it comes to skipping the chores for too many days in a row.

And single people don't always remember they've made the same mistake multiple times this year of trying out a new cat litter when really there's only one that works for this cat. Sure, there's no dust, but that means you're stepping on flavor crystals in the middle of the night when you get up to pee after the cat. Probably a good thing that you're single at this point, but a preventative reminder would have been nice.

Single's all right. A little lonely. A little goofy. A little wild, a little lame. A little fat some days, skinny on others, depending on the mood. Dog doesn't seem to mind.

Single is super safe. Cozy, comfortable, bumming around the apartment in crazy hair and a makeshift tanktop printed with gold cats. (No, you don't get a picture.) Single is risk-free when it comes to matters of the heart.

And god knows I'm not a risk taker.

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_{All pictures and words copyright Anna Horvitz (me) and cannot be used without my consent.}