I was not cut out to live with people. I can be the life of the party, and on occasion I enjoy meeting new peeps - but, generally, I just want to be left alone. I know I've alluded to it before, but seriously - lots and lots of alone time everyday. To the point where my romantic fantasy is to meet someone amazing that I want to share my life with....and have them live next door.
And I'm currently living with my parents. (STRRRRRIKE 1) As my dad and I fix up my place to get it ready to sell. (STRRRRRIKE 2 and 3 and let's make it an even 4, batter.)
I'm a quagmire. My father is helping me out immeasurably, and yet I'm annoyed on at least an hourly basis. Sometimes, I can tell I'm being a bitch as I'm saying something, but I can't bite back the words. I hate this, I really do.
So, some of it is me - and I readily acknowledge that - I'm 30 years old, and have lived on my own for 13 years. Moving back home, even for less than a month, is not going to be easy. But some of it definitely comes from my parents. Here's a little tip (or possibly a note to self, if I ever decide to have kids): whatever your kids are like at 27 - that's it. You're done. No amount of nagging, cajoling, lecturing, or other parental forms of browbeating are going to result in any character-building or breakthroughs on their part. Let. It. Go. And remember that you do not see your adult children the way other adults do: it was nearly amusing to be told this morning that I'm horrendously forgetful, disorganized, etc. Hmm...I managed to graduate from law school, I must be capable of doing something right.
Aargh. I'm booking my flight to California this week. I think it best for everyone's mental health.