There are indeed ways that living in a studio apartment, by yourself, can be a good thing. The standard, of course, is about being able to come and go whenever you're ready to, or just lay back with the Playstation and let the world do what it might. But, there are things beyond that, things I figure every 41-year-old wishes he could experience, such as:

• Walking out of the house, just to go and catch up on miscellanious crap that needs to get done, but none the less looking like you dressed in the dark, and never hearing a thing about it. Especially in the summer, my clothes could tend to be a mish-mash before I actually had to go to work, complete with my Won Buddhist 'do rag, and noone I actually regarded said a word. (My students, in this case, don't count.)
• Drinking from the container. Yes, gentlemen, it took going to Korea to be able to do so, but I've found the way to be married and still drink orange juice straight from the bottle. Mind you, this habit will unquestionably have to be extinguished upon my departure, but for now....boy, is it sweet.
• I haven't had much here in terms of buddies I would stay out all night drinking with, and mostly, I haven't anyway. But it is nice to know that you'll never have to even contemplate driving home if you're so ripped you can't see straight. Take a cab, (money, but cheap money,) or walk, and you'll be fine.
• Knowing that if I'm on display as much as I have been, just for being an American in Korea, nobody DAMN WELL better care if I sit in the park and watch them.
• Being able to unquestionably cost-cut if the money runs short before payday. Ramen noodles are still the all-time classic for this endeavor, stocked up on by the 5-pack. Not the ultimate in living, but none the less, noone else will have a problem with it.
  

And speaking of thinking of home, the real classic items that are regulars on my list just for their capacity to make me think fondly of America are the little Hershey snack bars, mostly doled out to the students if they do good work on their memory sentences, or otherwise behave themselves in class, and Pringle's potato chips. Almost every other snack on the shelves tastes as though it were made by Georgia Pacific. That, and the sound of the one or two Harley-Davidsons here in Iksan. The visceral throb of that V-Twin has never failed to make me smile, particularly since I've been in Korea. Beyond thoughts of Martha, or my daughters, nothing else, in fact, makes me smile NEARLY as much. Although I'm certain now that Martha is busy contemplating neo-Pavlovian measures to put me back in order upon my return. Place your bets on the first time I hear "you're not in Korea anymore, honey, go change your shirt." The larger comfort to everyone involved is that being blatantly ill-mannered, at least as regards the drinking from the bottle thing, badly dressed, and as a topper, lightly unshaven on days off, is a sure-fire female repellent; even in Korea. Temporary though it is, the situation is still it's own joy in this regard.