When I was 16, living with my parents was a drag. It felt like they always wanted to know where I was going, when I was coming home, and who I was going out with.
I dreamed of the day I would move into a house with my friends. Shows like “The Bold Type” and “Girls” had me fantasizing about living in a tiny apartment in New York, hanging out on the couch, and ordering pizza for dinner.
I always thought one day, I would inevitably find myself in the right circumstances where I would move out with some friends or housemates — but at 28, I’m still living at home.
The older I got, the more apparent it became to me that I liked living with my family…
