Last month my parents went on vacation. I was so pumped. A whole house to myself! Woo! Plus, during the ridiculously hot days of summer, I could sleep in their room in the basement, saving myself the trouble of falling asleep sweating. They were gone for a day short of two weeks. The whole time I was in this limbo of wanting to enjoy the house to myself and mostly just wanting to watch Monk. The best part about it was that the house stayed pretty clean the whole time because I'm pretty good at taking care of the mess of one. The other best part about it was that I was pretty allowed to walk around in whatever state-of-dress I wanted, because there was no one to be offended by my skin.
The worst part about it was the silence. The worst part of living alone is always the silence. I hugged them both for a long time when they got home and scheduled myself two nights a week to make dinner so I would start feeling like a valuable part of the household. I just appreciate it so much, you know. Like how many 25 year olds like their parents enough to make use of their willingness to take care of them rain or shine? Maybe there's a reverse of that statement too. How many parents are willing to provide food and shelter for their 25 year olds no questions asked? Not that there aren't questions. Oh there are. But that's pretty normal for parents I think.