To those of you living with your mummy and daddy…
Ah, living at home. It’s like a breath of fresh air, a complete comfort, a vacation…IN HELL. Yes, I have recently moved in with my parents after two years of living on an island thousands of miles away from them. So yes, my transition from distanced paradise to a room decorated by Mom is a bit more of a struggle than some other people have had to face.
Let me also make it clear that this situation is temporary. Just another month and I’ll be unpacking in my Austin apartment with my best friend.
But how do I survive another month?! How will I survive another week?!
No one who has lived on their own should ever, EVER have to move back in with the rents. And while I’m on that note, if you’re over the age of 21 but still have a roommate that pushed you out of her vagina, MOVE OUT! I understand that there are certain financial dilemmas that set some people back. But for the love of Netflix, I’d be flippin’ burgers all day every day if it meant my own closet-sized casa—do what you gotta do!
And don’t give me that “my parents are actually really cool” bullcrap. No one’s parents are that cool. Cool enough to have dinner with and laugh at a movie together? Sure. Cool enough to combine whites when it’s laundry day? THAT IS NOT COOL, THAT IS SAD.
If you are living with the parentals, let me give you some fantastic reasons to get the hell outa there as fast as you can:
- If you have your own place, you can bring dates home (for a glass of wine or to get laid, wherever your mind went with that…let it wander). I really don’t need any more reasons after this, am I right? But I do have many other reasons.
- You can be as messy as you want without ever hearing, “You know, it’s really not that hard to…”
- You can sleep as late as you want without your mom barging in and proclaiming loudly that, “It’s almost TEN!”
- You can be gone all night, all weekend, or all month without the SWAT team being called.
- You can choose what’s in your fridge and pantry…whether that means you can choose to go on a diet and be away from all your parents’ greasy, buttery, fat-filled foods (nomnom but cellulitecellulite) or it could mean that you can choose to eat ramen and fruit roll-ups all day without hearing any lectures.
- Alcohol. Smoking. All things sinful. Ah, the freedom to kill brain cells. I miss it.
- Set the damn AC to whatever damn degree you damn well please.
- The TV will belong to you. The remote will belong to you. Basically, the universe is yours.
- Any bad decision that you want to make, any horrible idea at all—you can do it without them ever even knowing… Paint your walls neon yellow, buy a pet cobra, cover every window with Adam Levine posters, break the dryer and be too cheap to fix it so you have to hang clothes all over the house, have an indoor water balloon fight, throw a massive party that ends in total destruction… You have permission…because you can give yourself permission (note: you will also probably not get your deposit back).
- Not living with your parents means you can avoid arguments about a) politics b) life choices c) deer overpopulation (OK, this one might not be so general). When you live on your own, you can strategically avoid arguing with your parents completely. Or strategically avoid your parents, period, ha.
I will hopefully survive the next month in this rehab-like institution, thanks to the dog (I do love the dog), the gym, and frequent nights out. But sweet baby Jesus, I can’t wait to visit the folks instead of sleeping down the hall from them. I encourage you to get out before it’s too late! Every day that you live under the same roof as those who birthed you, you lose one coolness point. I was born with a LOT of points, so I’ll be fine, but you might not be as lucky.
P.S. My parents are pretty much my top two blog fans soooo…about that….love you guys!