Alice Stolz says 'it's rather divine having a mini-break and my own room'

Domain’s property expert Alice Stolz reflects on living alone for the first time in years.

My husband is overseas for work at the moment and I’ve realised it’s the first time in decades that I have lived alone, really alone for a very long time.

Don’t tell my husband, but it’s bliss.

I moved out of home just after finishing university, the same year I moved from Melbourne to Sydney for work. My first house was a share house with perfect strangers found in the Sydney Morning Herald.

Four of us padded about a lovely but rundown Victorian terrace that had been divided up into oversized apartments.

A few years on and I grew tired of the flatmate arrangement and moved in with friends; crazy and fun and every evening ended with howls of laughter, shared TV shows and Baileys or Frangelico.

And then I met my husband, who I only lived with a few weeks before we got married (which yes, looking back seems alarmingly reckless). And that was almost 20 years ago.

Three quarters of those years have included babies who became toddlers and who now are inexplicably, teenagers.

For two decades our apartments and houses have enjoyed pregnancies, nurseries, screaming babies, tantrums, childhood curiosities and now hilarious, moody and opinionated teenagers.

Throughout all of this, my husband has been there. But I have to confess, his physical absence at the moment is strangely quite nice.

When I go to my bedroom at night, the bed is made as I left it that morning. Duvet still straightened, pillows plumped, cushions arranged just so.

There’s no coat flung on the armchair, no newspaper and cup of tea left on the bedside table. And in the kitchen, the dishwasher is packed my way, without any negotiation.

My coffee and tea supplies are maintained. The rubbish bins are put out (I delegate that to the children), the fridge is ordered and our bathroom is always free. And I have full autonomy over the remote control and what we’re having for dinner.

Am I horrible? Heartless? Too obsessive? Probably all of that and more.

However, after a lifetime of living with siblings and parents, flatmates and friends and then my (beautiful) husband, I have to say, it is rather divine having a mini-break and enjoying a room all of my own.

Just for a few weeks. Got to run, I’m off to cook myself some eggs for dinner.