I am writing this after reading Ronni’s Rethinking Living Arrangements at Time Goes By and Naomi’s Housing Ourselves in Late Life at A Little Red Hen

Me, one day?

I moved into my new flat some twelve years ago, and it took me forever to get to do it, as I had lived in the same flat ever since I was four.
When I moved in, I thought, and I may even have said this to several of my friends

When I move out of here, it’ll be in my coffin.

In French, we have a colourful expression, les pieds devants, (feet first) to express it.

I have lived in this flat with my daughter and now I live here by myself. And I have to say that I love it this way. I just do not enjoy living with other people any more. When I go on holiday with a friend, it’s all right because we both know that it’s for a short time. But I think that I am now too set in my ways to be able to do otherwise.
Understand me, when my husband was still alive, –and when I was younger–, I enjoyed the sharing, the companionship, the conversations. But it’s all part of the past and I am just too selfish to envisage a flat mate, even though it would mean sharing duties as well as sharing the space.

From my window

I may be be too young an elder to envisage a time when I will think differently, but at the moment, as I wrote in a comment at Naomi’s,

I can consider death with no qualms but moving out of my beloved flat is just something that, I feel, would kill me.
Maybe I’ll change my mind, and I do admire people who make different decisions. It might also have to do with the sort of assisted living conditions you see people in… In this country, I see those places as the antechamber to the cemetery. So I’d rather keep to my own flat as an antechamber

I fancy the idea of dying here in my sleep and going to lie forever, next to my husband, or maybe it is above him? at Cimetière Montmartre, being watched over by the cats there.

I don’t mind being watched over by cats when I’m dead

I do realize it might just be that I am not ready to consider being assisted yet, probably too young and too healthy, but I’d rather jump the hurdles as they come along and see what happens. I am also aware that I am privileged to own my flat and to have a retirement allowance that lets me live more than decently. At least at the moment, since we can’t know what lies ahead. But I feel that I have seen really bad times, what with being widowed at 48 and having breast cancer, and just point blank refuse to worry about more trouble coming my way. I’ll face up to it when it happens, as I have always done.