It’s not really a point of pride to say that you’re moving back in with your parents. That statement is usually followed by the visual of a prematurely bald man eating cheetos on a couch in the basement while yelling MAAAA as cheese dust falls upon his beer soaked shirt. Ok, that may be a tad much. But, that’s the image I see when I think about the move back home.
Fortunately, I’m neither of those things…except a cheeto lover, but if you’ve read this blog for a while now you’d already know that. But, moving back home takes me back to my childhood/teenhood and that’s a place I never want to go again. Luckily, I took down the wall of *NSYNC memorabilia, concert glowsticks included, a few years ago. Hey, I thought they’d make a comeback. My old room now has the mature look of someone who has lived on her own for eleven years and would rather this be a guest room.
We always assure people that this move will be ‘temporary’. ‘I’m just trying to save up some money‘, we say. ‘I’m biding my time while I look for a new place‘, they say. And that’s fine, as long as it’s not ten years down the road and you’re still trying to use that excuse. We should consider ourselves lucky that our parents would be willing to let us back in. I watched Empty Nest as a small child, I know some things.
I should probably set some ground rules, though, just in case.