In my 20s and 30s, I owned two flats and, for a fleeting period, was the co-owner of a grown-up Victorian terrace house.
The sensible thing would have been to save up to put another deposit down on a modest place in an area earmarked as the next hot spot. Instead, I spent three years and a large amount of my savings travelling abroad, volunteering for an animal charity, studying and generally having fun.
She owned more than 99% of the world's population could ever expect in life, and she squandered it all, traveling and spending money like a drunken sailor.
While I work out what to do next, it seemed like the practical (and only) choice to move back in with my parents.
Decades-long squabbles have been reignited. My dad runs the washing-up regime in the kitchen like a military operation and, as I write this, the unwelcome presence of my dirty porridge saucepan in the sink haunts the house.
Yesterday, I got accused of “hacking” into my dad’s breakfast loaf (I was cutting off two slices!)
Allegedly an adult and living in her parents' house, all she's expected to do is wash her own dishes and not filch her Dad's food. Can't even manage either of those.
Then there is the fact that my parents are now retired and in their seventies. There is a certain amount of guilt on my side that I should be looking after them – although, thankfully, they are both still in good health.
Uh huh... 'thankfully'. Anybody want to bet she just can't wait for them to kick off so she can claim the house and their assets, then jump back onto the carousel.
It’s been Great British Railways on TV for weeks now.
No good TV to watch in a comfortable house where she's living practically rent free. Oh the horror!
At the moment I don’t pay bills, a mortgage or anything else that constitutes the parameters of a “normal” adult life. I do worry about regressing into a giant adult baby
She's already regressed into a giant adult baby and doesn't even realize it.
I'm drunk by 6.15pm and in bed with a hangover by 8.30pm.
Now that's classy. Anybody want to wife that up?
Still, it’s hard to hold on to your independence when you are living at home. I have no car, so I have to rely on lifts from my parents everywhere.
Hold onto her independence?? Sweetiepie.. your independence disappeared when you failed at life and begged to move back in with your parents.
Every day, my dad asks me if I’ve got a job yet (he clearly doesn’t think freelance writing counts).
Hahahahaha..freelance writing. She sits her ass down on a comfy couch with free coffee from her parents to type a few lines on a laptop, hopefully getting paid twenty bucks a month when some women's e-zine editor is feeling lazy enough to scoop up a few paragraphs of her "You go grrl!" tripe.
I should also point out that I am now single and the Tinder selection in the sticks isn’t fantastic, unless you have a penchant for ruddy-faced farmers with profile pictures of them posing in front of their muddy Land Rovers and caressing a brace of dead pheasants.
She obviously looks down on them, and yet even they won't have her. Damn them for having standards.
And with 146 years of combined life experience, they are pretty good at offering wise counsel when I have one of my “Oh God, why did I spend all my money on Airbnbs and finding myself, instead of buying another place!” meltdowns.
Too bad women like her aren't capable of recognizing a little thing called 'cause and effect'. Something most people develop in grade school and actually manage to figure out in their teens.
At first I loved the novelty of cohabiting with the folks. But as the weeks and months slipped past, I started to get paranoid about being the joke.
Hey, she actually got something right. She's a joke of a human being. But she claims that she's just being paranoid about it, so it can't be the truth.
But I can’t deny that living at home with your parents in your 40s is a funny old place to be.
Yeah, I'm sure her parents find it just hilarious. Unable to enjoy their last few years of life enjoying each others' company in peace and solitude. They instead have to share their home with an ungrateful leech. Oh well, too bad for them, huh?
When I have those moments staring out of the living room window across the flat muddy fields and my stomach drops and I think: “What have I done?”, I remind myself that there are worse places to recoup than with people who love me, in a warm and comfortable house. I would still rather be where I am now, uncertain as it is, than be the property-owning but ultimately dissatisfied person I was before.
Yep, life is really rough when you can rely on others to save you from your own shitty decisions.
How many men could do the same thing?
"Mom, Dad? I wasted my life and all my money having fun and traveling abroad and don't have a job and now I'm broke. Can I move in with you until you die and leave me everything?"
"Get the fuck out of here, son." *slam*
Plus, I am only 41. Hardly on life’s scrap heap.
Oh if only she had any idea how much worse it's going to get. She's already turned invisible to men but she thinks there's still hope. She actually thinks she's going to get hit up on Tinder and a man is going to swoop in and save her from this situation she's just 'found herself in'.
Women, you too can have it all, just like her.
Enjoy life's scrap heap.