When I first moved back in, I had a hard time transitioning from being on my own, in my apartment, doing my thing to living with my parents in their home. I was surprised at the little things that changed that I never thought twice about when in my own place. For instance, I forget sometimes that I now have to shut the bathroom door when I shower (it gets too foggy), and I cannot simply go to my room wrapped in a towel to get dressed. You also need to lock the bathroom door because seriously, some people, aka my brother, sometimes does not bother knocking or looking to see if he can see if the bathroom light is on through the door crack, and will just walk in. Makes for a highly awkward situation for all parties. Slowly but surely though, I'm adjusting, and like I've mentioned, my parents are letting me live there free of rent until I can get back out on my own, so complaining about small stuff is silly.
Around the first week I moved in, my dad reminded me to bring in some beer which I had forgotten about that was left in my car from my move. This was during the height of our heat wave, so beer sitting in the backseat of my car for the weekend meant this beer was super hot and in need of refrigeration, which means I couldn't immediately break rule 1 and take the beer directly to my room to enjoy on my own time, far away from the kitchen. This day I was particularly stressed with life in general, so that night I had one while talking with my mom and cutting my dad's hair, then snuck another to my room around 10pm when my parents were in their room. Now, it was light beer, so after two I only had a slight buzz and felt a little relaxed. This post is going to make me sound like an alcoholic sneaking beer away to my room, but like I said, it was only two, and the sneaking was more for the rule than my parents seeing me drink beer. Anyways, I watched a movie while I started on a painting project, drinking my beer and around 11:30pm, was still wide awake and decided I wanted one more as I planned to continue working on my painting.
It was going to be easy to sneak it down and as I hit the top of the stairs, I saw my dad on the computer in the dining room. My father is recently retired and now enjoys the perks of not working, which include staying up and sleeping in late. I had forgotten this. My mom was already in bed, and I could tell by the shut bedroom door and the floor fan going. I stood at the open fridge for a second, that cold beer staring at me, and my dad turned and asked what I was doing. "Getting a snack"was my reply. I waited until he turned back around and contemplated how I was going to get this can downstairs. I initially thought, hey, I'll tuck it into the waistband of my pj pants. The cold can touched my skin and I just couldn't do it. Then, a genius moment popped in my head; I'll wrap it in a paper towel so I can sneak it in my bra and take it downstairs with me. Brilliant. I tore a paper towel off, wrapped my beer, was attempting the beer-in-bra mission when bam-my mom. She came in the kitchen, said she couldn't sleep and asked what I was doing.
How does one explain their situation with a beer can carefully wrapped in a paper towel? You just can't without sounding sad. My response?
"I couldn't sleep so I just thought I'd drink this beer, maybe it'd help me relax or something. I'm kinda hungry though."
Stupid.
So I placed the beer back in the fridge because it looks bad to a) chug a beer in the kitchen in front of your mom at 11:30pm so you can go downstairs without bringing a liquid with me, and b) makes me look like a bonified alcoholic to need beer to fall asleep.
I instead ate a banana, talked with my mom for a half hour, and returned to my room sober, defeated, and went to sleep.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
The Rules
There are many rules to living in this house. Many many rules. That wouldn't be so bad except I usually don't know there is a rule pertaining to a specific situation until after I've broken it. Here's a sample of the new home rules:
1. No food or drink allowed out of the kitchen.
This is by far the most important and most violated rule in the house. My dad will remind any repeat offenders of the cost of the carpet upstairs, and that accidents may happen but they are not acceptable. He has a small camera that sits on the stairwell banister, supposedly for security purposes, and sets a timer on it overnight to snap pictures, so that if someone breaks in, he'd see them. I think this a cover up and that it's used to see if someone is bringing food downstairs. My sisters both lived at home last year and said they mastered the art of carrying food downstairs until pictures on my dad's cell phone carrying Popeye's bags proved otherwise.
2. No water may escape outside the bathtub for any reason.
When we were teens, we must have showered with the curtain open and dumped a bucket of water on the bathroom floor for good measure. Or there were just four people in and out of that bathtub throughout the day and water inevitably got on the floor, and we were much too lazy to wipe it up because there is a water stain over the garage that sparks the nagging of the shower. I don't know, living on my own for several years and having my own things, I'd *hope* I'm a bit neater about the water on the bathroom floor. Then again, the ex complained one time he couldn't wear socks in the bathroom after I showered, so perhaps I've never learned. I shower at 6:30am, and no one is up, so I only hear this on the weekends or the occasional evening when my dad feels like he may have forgotten to remind me, "there better not be any water on the bathroom floor!" My sister was home much of the day when she lived there, and can testify that if you shower when he's home, he will remind you...every time you take a shower.
3. Do not go upstairs Sunday night after 9pm and dad is on the computer....
Unless you want to be roped into watching "Corner Gas" for an hour at the laptop.
Just kidding. I actually enjoy "Corner Gas."
4. DO NOT EVER GO NEAR DAD'S TRUCK.
My second week of living at the house, my dad was so kind as to help me check out some issues with the oil in my car. Before we could do this, he asked me to help him carry a trashcan to the curb. My keys in my right hand and the garbage can handle in my left, I helped as we walked between his truck and my mom's car. Now, the motion of walking caused my arms to swing a little more exaggeratedly and in doing this, my tiny flashlight on my key ring ever so lightly tapped my dad's truck. My dad immediately stopped walking, set down the trashcan, and with his bulging eyes, turned to me, then to his truck to inspect any scratches. Then got on me about potential scratches. Then wanted me to examine where other "scratches" were on his truck. Lesson learned- do not, under any circumstance, park next to, walk next to, swing arms next to dad's truck.
1. No food or drink allowed out of the kitchen.
This is by far the most important and most violated rule in the house. My dad will remind any repeat offenders of the cost of the carpet upstairs, and that accidents may happen but they are not acceptable. He has a small camera that sits on the stairwell banister, supposedly for security purposes, and sets a timer on it overnight to snap pictures, so that if someone breaks in, he'd see them. I think this a cover up and that it's used to see if someone is bringing food downstairs. My sisters both lived at home last year and said they mastered the art of carrying food downstairs until pictures on my dad's cell phone carrying Popeye's bags proved otherwise.
2. No water may escape outside the bathtub for any reason.
When we were teens, we must have showered with the curtain open and dumped a bucket of water on the bathroom floor for good measure. Or there were just four people in and out of that bathtub throughout the day and water inevitably got on the floor, and we were much too lazy to wipe it up because there is a water stain over the garage that sparks the nagging of the shower. I don't know, living on my own for several years and having my own things, I'd *hope* I'm a bit neater about the water on the bathroom floor. Then again, the ex complained one time he couldn't wear socks in the bathroom after I showered, so perhaps I've never learned. I shower at 6:30am, and no one is up, so I only hear this on the weekends or the occasional evening when my dad feels like he may have forgotten to remind me, "there better not be any water on the bathroom floor!" My sister was home much of the day when she lived there, and can testify that if you shower when he's home, he will remind you...every time you take a shower.
3. Do not go upstairs Sunday night after 9pm and dad is on the computer....
Unless you want to be roped into watching "Corner Gas" for an hour at the laptop.
Just kidding. I actually enjoy "Corner Gas."
4. DO NOT EVER GO NEAR DAD'S TRUCK.
My second week of living at the house, my dad was so kind as to help me check out some issues with the oil in my car. Before we could do this, he asked me to help him carry a trashcan to the curb. My keys in my right hand and the garbage can handle in my left, I helped as we walked between his truck and my mom's car. Now, the motion of walking caused my arms to swing a little more exaggeratedly and in doing this, my tiny flashlight on my key ring ever so lightly tapped my dad's truck. My dad immediately stopped walking, set down the trashcan, and with his bulging eyes, turned to me, then to his truck to inspect any scratches. Then got on me about potential scratches. Then wanted me to examine where other "scratches" were on his truck. Lesson learned- do not, under any circumstance, park next to, walk next to, swing arms next to dad's truck.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
The first post
So here I am. My life, as many can relate, took a very different direction than I ever expected and I am still trying to adjust to my new life. First, a quick run down and introduction. Hi, my name is Susan. I'm 26 (about to be 27 in September, I'm not sure why I insist on following up 26 with "I'll be 27 in September, but I've been doing it since January). In January 2010, I graduated from the University of Maryland, College Park, eight long years after I first started college. I was living with my best friend and the only man I've ever loved. We had a cute apartment with a big kitchen and three cats that had personalities so unique, you'd swear they talked human instead of cat meows. I'd make him lunch for work and I'd have dinner ready when he got home; I loved life and life was good. This is where it starts to go down hill. It took me six months to find a job and that ended up being at an electronic cigarette company where I was the only native American and I did customer service for them. I took this position because I was slotted to move with my boyfriend of 3 years to Montana, where we were going to finish (well, me go back to) school, and I was going to be a teacher and he was going to be a successful graphic designer and/or musician, and we needed money to fund our move. Plans change as he decided he no longer wants to date me for a plethora of reasons that basically boiled down to "I don't know if I will ever want kids." If this is the only, true reason, I do not, or maybe will ever, know as he apparently does not want to talk to me, but more about that later. I will write more about the e-cigarette place at a later date as well, but I left them a week ago to return to a non profit that I have for the past four years worked for as a temporary meetings assistant, that will probably never make me a permanent employee, as you do not have to give benefits or high pay to someone who will essentially beg for her position back every June. I do enjoy working with people who are as intellectually challenging, politically simulating, and hilarious as my coworkers, plus I get to travel, so that's fun.
Life gets better. Because of the break up and the fact that I have had no money/steady job until now, it was necessary for me to move back in with my parents. They were extremely kind and generous to allow me to move back in, but I will say that after 7 years of being at least semi on my own, moving back in with them has been a challenge. One is what my url is named after, again, a different story for a different time. Right now I'm doing introductions.
My life, in short, is ridiculous. I've been told for ages that I need to write out my life for others to read, so I will take this as my opportunity. My parents are crazy but wonderful, my best friend if insane and my life is absolutely not what I dreamed about. I can tell you in all honesty, I would never have thought at 26, almost 27, I'd be sitting at a computer in the downstairs bedroom aptly nicknamed "the green cave" in my parents' house, typing out this at 12:35am, while buzzed on cheap beer that I had to sneak downstairs because my dad doesn't allow any liquids anywhere in the house that has carpet. Coors light is sorta like water though. But, I can laugh at my life and I hope you can too.
Life gets better. Because of the break up and the fact that I have had no money/steady job until now, it was necessary for me to move back in with my parents. They were extremely kind and generous to allow me to move back in, but I will say that after 7 years of being at least semi on my own, moving back in with them has been a challenge. One is what my url is named after, again, a different story for a different time. Right now I'm doing introductions.
My life, in short, is ridiculous. I've been told for ages that I need to write out my life for others to read, so I will take this as my opportunity. My parents are crazy but wonderful, my best friend if insane and my life is absolutely not what I dreamed about. I can tell you in all honesty, I would never have thought at 26, almost 27, I'd be sitting at a computer in the downstairs bedroom aptly nicknamed "the green cave" in my parents' house, typing out this at 12:35am, while buzzed on cheap beer that I had to sneak downstairs because my dad doesn't allow any liquids anywhere in the house that has carpet. Coors light is sorta like water though. But, I can laugh at my life and I hope you can too.
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