Livin’ Rent Free With The ‘Rents.
The other day I realized that I could probably afford to move out of my parents house if I just stopped spending money on anything but life essentials: like tampons…and rice-a-roni. So theoretically, I could be sitting in some moldy studio apartment with one window eating rice-a-roni and watching youtube videos on my iPhone.
Welp, that sounds SHITTY. I’d rather invest my greenbacks on Kardashian Kollection sunglasses at Sears (yup.)
i look JUST like a Kardash!
Moving back in with my parents was one of those double-edged sword decisions. But, I shouldn’t give myself TOO much credit, free food and cable pretty much seals any deal with me. The reason they make all those movies like Grandma’s Boy is because it’s totally TRUE. You move back in with your parents “temporarily” but then you get comfortable and six-months turns into a year and pretty soon you’re coming up on the 3 year mark…fuck. Time flies when you’re livin’ rent free, let me tell you.
When faced with this living situation you realize how to navigate your relationship with your “roommates” and you tell yourself all the time that it isn’t THAT BAD. In fact, in some cultures children are SUPPOSED to live with their parents until they are 30! But, then again, you aren’t Filipino so that’s not really a rationalization. You forget the little things that made living on your own worth the price of a monthly electric bill…like taking bong rips on your couch….in your underwear. Or cleaning the house to gangsta rap on blast….in your underwear.
Living with your parents is kinda like becoming accustomed to living with one leg after you’ve had two your whole life. It’s less convenient and you have to figure out new systems to get the same shit done but it’s do-able, and you’ll get by. I also think it’s great preparation for marriage, having to live with someone who you don’t always like, having to sneak your shopping bags into the house after spending money you are supposed to have been saving, trying (and failing) at appearing sober upon arriving home post wino lunch with the girls…or, way more likely in my case, a sunday beer picnic.
just like the good 'ol days!
The day I left for college my Dad pulled the ‘ol “turn your room into an office” move. Better luck next time, homie. These days it’s hard to imagine life any other way than eating “your food”, getting lectured on Sunday mornings for the drunk-cooking mess I have no recollection of making in “your kitchen,” fighting over “your TV” (you want the U.S. Open and Obama and I want Bad Girls Club and Real Housewives), getting scolded for leaving my laundry in a pile by “your washing machine” or the time you wouldn’t talk to me for 3-days because I attempted to put a leash on “your cat” and take her for a walk. Never a dull moment! Despite being completely absurd at times, I really think living together as adults has had it’s precious moments…almost as precious as those dolls, not quite.
accurately precious.
Dad, you are totally gonna miss me when I eventuallyyyyy fly the coop.
