It's Quite the Experience

Last night I admitted to myself that I was feeling a little bit like a failure for moving into my Grandma's basement.  Because, at 26 years old, who really wants to reply, when asked where they live, "I live with my Grandma."  Especially after nearly 4 years of living on my own.

Yes, it's financially a great option.  No, with my current state of finances, I couldn't really swing an apartment on my own.  Yes, I was quite certain that for this next season, it seemed to be the option that Jesus led me to.  The door that opened in front of me.

But it's hard.

Quite the experience really.

I said "no" more times yesterday than I probably have in the last week.  No, I don't want you to do my laundry.  No, I don't want you to cook for me.  No, I don't want to eat upstairs, I'm going to watch a movie on my laptop while I eat.  No, I don't eat breakfast in the morning before I leave for work (I eat it after work.)  No, I don't want you to drive me to all of my errands.  (For that last one, it's really a case of, I don't want her with me while doing all of my errands.)  No, I don't particularly like red grapes, or eat much white bread.

And then there's the scheduling things.  I'm sort of afraid this is going to turn into one of those situations where I have to report my wherabouts at all times.  At 26 years old, I'm not planning to make those phone calls that I made when I was 12.  I don't actually know what time I'll be home after work.  It depends on if I decide to do some errands.  Later this week, I won't be home until late in the evening, I'm meeting L. for a final evening together - dinner and a movie and just some time together before she leaves the country.  On Thursday nights I come home, but then I go right back out.

Sigh.

It's quite the experience living with your chatty, nosy, eighty year old grandmother when you're already an independent adult.  Especially an independent adult who places a huge degree of value on both independence and privacy.

And I haven't even mentioned all the quirks of the less than well maintained house.  The toilet that sometimes runs, so you have to watch it and push this thing inside down to make it stop.  The floor drain that starts to back up while doing the laundry, so you need to watch that too (guess my days of throwing a load of sheets into the washer before work and into the dryer when I get home are over.)  The basement bathroom that doesn't have a shower at the moment, only a sink and toilet, but makes me nervous every time I go to use it, because it doesn't have a door at the moment either (hopefully my dad is going to rectify that this week sometime.)  The furnace that comes on and goes off every twenty minutes or so with a bang that sounds like someone dropping several metal cookie sheets loudly on the floor.

I'm so looking forward to the date in April by which time I'll again have a car.

I can taste the freedom that that will give.

In the meantime, it's only a few days old, but it's already quite the experience.