Well, after 27 years, I finally had the house to myself.
The kids were gone, moved in to their own places and I’d finally got shot of the husband too.
It was bliss.
But unfortunately it only lasted a few weeks.
My son Gary moved out at the start of the year, which at first I had reservations about. I hadn’t lived on my own before so I wondered how I would cope.
Within days any worries had vanished and I relished returning home from work to find the food I had bought and paid for still in the fridge, the sink clear of dishes and no piles of laundry to have to sort through.
In short, I was my own woman.
Until Gary made a triumphant return only months after moving out.
He was having water problems in his flat and moved back in - without even asking me - until it was resolved.
And I soon found myself coming home from a long day in the office to discover him in front of the TV, still in his pyjamas, eating the food I’d bought – apparently taking a ‘break’ from studying for his university exams.
I was managing to bite my tongue when I had to pick up damp towels from the bathroom floor from his twice daily showers and didn’t say anything when I spotted him guzzling milk straight from the carton.
But the straw that broke the camel’s back came this week and I forced him to move in with his girlfriend.
Every time he plays five-a-side football he brings home these tiny pieces of black rubber they use on the astro-turf down at Falkirk Stadium pitches.
They get everywhere and are a nightmare to try to pick up so I politely told him when he moved back in to make sure he didn’t bring them in with him.
But twice a week he gets home from football, dumps his mucky boots at the front door and proceeds to trail these rubber pieces through out the house.
I’m finding them everywhere, in clean bundles of laundry, on the couch and the other day I picked up an apple and bit into it only to pick out tiny pieces of rubber from my mouth.
That was it. I told Gary enough was enough and I didn’t care where he went but he wasn’t staying here for Cinderella to have to look after any more.
After protesting that at least he was taking his shoes off at the door, he admitted defeat and went to stay with his girlfriend until the work was completed at the flat.
Things soon went back to normal, I rid the house completely of rubber pieces and I was enjoying having my space.
I even invited Gary and his girlfriend round for tea at the start of the week and we had a lovely evening.
It turns out you can stand your kids far easier when they are kept at arm’s length!