There exists a major difference in my and Steve’s respective post-college lives: Steve is living in a house with a roommate hundreds of miles away from his parents and I have been living, on and off and on, with my parents.*
During this time, I have pretty much blamed all of my problems on the fact that I don’t have my very own space in which I can expand, get organized, and be healthy. For instance, when the payment on my credit card is late, I blame the fact that the bills come to my mother’s house and hey, I’m really only there about one-third to one-half of the week. And when I leave library books at my dad’s and get huge late fines, it’s the same reason except vice versa.
I’ll be able to do all of the following, my logic suggests, when I have a place of my own: get consistent amounts of sleep, wake up early, read lots of novels, write novels, write letters to friend I’ve pretty much neglected, eat better, save money, look more “professional” at work, complete craft projects, open the sewing machine my mom got me for Christmas two years ago, learn to cross-stitch, throw away or donate all the crap I’ve acquired, have more friends, and exercise.
I’m banking so much on the fact that I’ll soon be in my own house, that I feel like I should be worried about fulfilling all the expectations. But, and it’s not really much of a secret, I know I won’t. I know that a furnace is gonna blow and we’ll need to fork over some big cash instead of saving it for that backpacking trip through Peru. I know I’ll probably be subject to the same bouts of endurance and laziness as I am now. And I also know that I’ll probably want to stop at a coffee shop just as much as I do now, even though I’ll finally be able to have a kitchen of my own in which I can make and drink a cup of French-pressed brew.
A person’s got to have hope though, right? And if we don’t spend at least some of our time thinking about the conditions that could make us more productive and responsible and better people—no matter how realistic—we won’t really progress, will we?
I am raising my store-bought cup of coffee right now, and saying Amen.
*Hi Mom and Dad, I love you!