I have a theory.

Living alone can make you mad.

Nobody to make sure your laundry is done.
Nobody to say it's okay to be sick.
Nobody to smile or growl when you get home.
Nobody to fight for the remote with.
Nobody to make dinner for.
Nobody to finish all the cookies.
Nobody to put on clothes for, or take off.

Many people I know live with their families. Just as many live with strangers.
Because it's cheaper.
Yup its all about the money.

But imagine if living places were cheap.
We'd all have our own little hell holes and we'd live so independently that we'd go mad.
Really, we would.
Cause, cause - you'd have no witnesses to your life at home.
And that is what the point of sharing your life with anyone is about - having a witness.
The Story of Us - that's what Michelle Pfeiffer tells Bruce Willis.
That she has been a witness to his life - that he existed. That he lived.
And he was there for her - in highs and in lows.

And that's why living alone will make u mad - eventually.
Because there are no witnesses to your life - not the parts when u smile at a stray cat seeking shelter from the rain in Nandos. Not for the times where u laugh out so loud seeing George's predicament in Grey's Anatomy or screaming for Simon Baker's towel to stay on or fall off...

NO WITNESSES