So this August marks the 3 year mark that I have been living in my parent’s basement. Now I would like preface that I’m very grateful to be in a situation where I am able to have my parents who are able to allow me to live with them without any real pressure to leave. Needless to say though it has been an experience worth retelling.

Just as some background I moved back home to go back to nursing school and between that and the bike trips I just haven’t left.  I moved back in August of 2013 into my old high school bedroom in full swing cliché in my parent’s basement. It’s not all bad because I have my own bathroom and living room area so I basically have a killer situation for a sleep over if all my friends weren’t adults with their own homes.

The first thing was that everything is different but also everything is the exact same. The most familiar is that many times I find triggers that will turn me into an instant 13-year-old. The best example is the classic 2002 debate of what is an appropriate time to bring the trash down or often the lint trap needs to be cleaned in the dryer.

On the plus side as a middle child I’ve never lived alone with my parents before with no siblings present and it is kind of nice to feel like the focus a little despite being 27 you still want your parents attention.**

It has been nice to form a more adult relationship with my parents, since they are kind of roommate status because you all work full time and are busy, we team up on responsibilities a little bit and it shifts the relationship.

Due to the fact my parents aren’t indebted college students the AC situation is pretty rad.

I have no control of all the rando relatives, family friends, or neighbors that come to the house, and I have to be ready to make game face pretty quickly.

I’m much more uptight about the status of my bedroom or living area because there I am the king of the smallest kingdom

When I’m out and about and I run into somebody and they want an update I have a very rehearsed monologue about why I live at home and the other person is always very quick to tell you it’s great and they wish they could still do that in leu of seeming judgmental or because they are genuinely jealous that I don’t have to buy my own toilet paper.

On that note, I don’t have to buy my own toilet paper which is boss.

Romantically you are screwed, potential dates are never turned on by your arrested development even if they never have to go to your home.

I drink a lot less alcohol because I can never make it back to Rockford, thus I see my friends a lot less. Also asking anyone to visit Rockford from Grand Rapids is like asking somebody from NYC to trek out to New Jersey.

Honestly though I know I can’t stay forever but I weirdly wouldn’t take this time back.

 

**Mary is back home now so I’m not the only sibling back home, so no more motherboy.