Moving out of home

In the years before I moved out of home, I was told by various well-meaning friends “Don’t move out of home. Put if off as long as possible.” Because once you’re out of home, you have to pay rent, cook your own food, wash your own clothes and whatever else. I almost expected, when it came time to move out, to live a life of ceaseless bill-paying and domestic drudgery.

I’ve been living out of home for almost two years now and I love it. I don’t understand the attitude of my friends. (Maybe its because they had to leave home much earlier than I did.) None of those domestic chores takes that long. One friend complains about how long it takes him to do the laundry. It takes me, what, 15 minutes a week? Cooking is easy, and only has to be done a couple of times a week, if you cook enough for leftovers. My complaining friend rarely cooks, so I said to him, “You want to give up your freedom to save yourself 30 minutes of work a week?” I was incredulous.

I have a good relationship with my parents and all, but I looooove the freedom.

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Moving out of home may be easy for some people, difficult for others. When I was unceremoneously booted out of the Gordon Homes (Those close to me would know what I mean) I hadn’t the first clue of how to really look after myself, cook, clean, etc. I had to learn the hard way. I’m still having difficulty, and sometimes I beat myself over how things burn, but I don’t think I’d want to return to living at home or under constant supervision like I was at Dad’s or at the Gordon Homes. Anyway my point is, we just have to keep going, and try our best. Noone will bag us about doing our best. Never give up.

Indeed. I should blog about my mad cooking skills one time. Or about the food poisoning …