Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess who lived in the heart of a bright city in an expensive apartment paid for by the king – unbeknownst to him because she stole his credit to pay rent for said apartment. One day, the king decided he was sick of the princesses shit and forced her to get a real job, which happened to be located back in her hometown. Pause. In my defense I had a job at Nordstrom, but I was lazy (not a good quality when you work on 100% commission) and spent my entire paycheck on clothes and lemon bread from the eBar. Oh, and the princess in this story is me in case you didn’t catch on. Unpause. The princess threw a big fucking tantrum, but was ultimately forced to move back to her castle in the middle of bum-fucking nowhere. Imagine a land where Kohl’s is the equivalent of Neiman Marcus and 90% of the population doesn’t even know what Louboutins are. I know, tragic. Luckily for the princess, the king and queen are only semi-difficult to live with, and they all lived happily ever after. So far-ish.
- Living at home saves you a shit ton of money. Like where else can you go where rent is free and a nice lady a.k.a your mom cooks you food every day?
- The nice lady also helps with laundry.
- I never have to spend money on frivolous things like hand soap and paper towels.
- There is an endless supply of toilet paper.
- Dishes? What dishes?
- I get to snuggle with my dog every day.
- Better everything. Better TV, better furniture, better alcohol selection.
- I have built-in best friends. My parents are actually pretty cool, especially compared to some of my previous roommates.
- There are rules. When you live on your own, you make the rules. When you live with your parents, they make the rules. You have to do shit like clean up after yourself. Da fuq.
- I have to wear pants. No more dance parties around the house in my underwear.
- I have no social life. I hardly remember what it’s like to be blacked out on a Tuesday.
- So. Many. Questions. My dad always asks who I’m chit-chatting. When I respond, “No one, I’m on Facebook.” He says, “Is that the place with the ‘moving photos’ like Harry Potter?” Yep that’s the one.
- There’s no sexy way to say, “Wanna go back to my house? … Where my parents also happen to live.”
In all honesty, I’ve always been close with my parents, but living with them has brought us closer. I can’t thank them enough for letting me move back in with them. Otherwise I would have been homeless by now, and that’s definitely not a good look for me.