Back with the 'Rents

Oh shit!  I haven't posted in about a month!  People are basically knocking down my door, pleading for more .... but man, my funny has been sucked dry from living with my parents and being unemployed.

I'm going to go this whole post without saying penis.  Starting .... PENIS .... now.

In case you didn't start paying attention until now, I'm currently living with my parents.  My husband is at Air Force Officer Training until the end of April and I didn't want to live in our shit hole apartment by myself, so I moved home.

Anyone who knows my parents knows that they are fucking rad.  They've always given me freedom and support.  And because I will be moving to California in the spring, it's really wonderful to get to spend time with them before I go.  I love them.

That being said, I'm edging closer to 30, so living with my parents is also really fucking weird.  You know, you grow up and think to yourself, "Next time I go home I'm going to ___________."  Then you go home and you're right back in the role you had when you were 8.  That's just how families are.  It's cool.  I pop my fingers like every 24 seconds, but I'm coming to terms with it.

Here's a short list of things that are weird when you move home to live with your parents as an adult - or at least the weird shit I have been dealing with. Something tells me other people might not have the same experiences .... :

• You are no longer just a social worker, serving additionally as an IT Specialist, Stylist, Detective, Physical Therapist, Dermatologist (rash-checker), etc.
• You come down to pee at 1am and your dad may or may not be on the couch watching soft-core porn.
• About every five minutes your mom asks, "Where is my waterbottle?!?"
• You feel even guiltier masturbating now than you did when you were 14.
• Your parents come into your room in the morning and say things like, "It's 10 o'clock."
• The drawers you used to keep your art supplies in as a child are now full of marijuana.
• Death is a popular topic.  As in, "When I die I don't want any of that long-funeral-service-shit. I want you to put my body on the dining room table and people can just come into the fucking house and say goodbye."
• Your little brother went on a spiritual journey in South America and when he came home, he lived in the room you're now staying in.  You keep knocking dried weeds off the walls and disrupting strategically placed ornaments.  You think you might be fucking cursed. 
• Your dad says things to you like, "Man, if your brother had your legs he'd be a beast!" 

The funniest part of this whole experience is that when I googled, "moving back home as an adult" to get inspiration for this blog post, all that came up was a bunch of shit like, "Don't let your adult children moving home derail your goals!"

As if my mom doesn't like picking up after me. Puh-lease.