…with roaches. Dear god I hate roaches. Big ones. Small ones. Some as big as a reasonable sized rat that has probably doing steroids and too many bench presses at gym, bro.
If you follow me on Twitter, you’ll have seen my
requests pleas about how to get rid of the pesky fuckers without burning down my apartment because deposits and references are needed when you can eventually afford to live somewhere where you can’t see your fridge from your bed.
Part of being an independent, 20-something year old adult is learning to feed yourself and not end up some kind of severe nutritional deficiency/disorder/disease/die. Admittedly, when I first moved out of home, I depended a lot of frozen vegetables and couscous. Cause like, EASY. But I’ve realised that perhaps to avoid getting scurvy (THIS IS A THING YOU CAN GET ON LAND), I had to improve my game.
I wrote my first post about the things I’ve learnt about life since moving out home about a year after I left my parents place (so many skills, guys, I feel like TV lied to me about how to an adult – but it’s ok, I’m making up for it one popcorn dinner at a time). This is my fifth year out of my parents’ snug little nest and the fourth in my shoebox apartment. And man, the things you figure out. The things no one told you. The things my mom probably did but I totally wasn’t listening.
I never used to like being touched. Growing up, I was very selective in who could touch me – I’d shy away from the hugs of strangers and family members alike. I didn’t like my space invaded and I only liked touch if I initiated it – I wasn’t ok with people just touching me because they could.
…or really the month that was, but whatever.
I’ve been living alone for about a year and a half now. Before that, I lived with The Ex Housemate. While we didn’t go shopping together that often, or, well, at all really, we’d often get shared items (bread!) or little treats (rusks! hot chocolate! biscuits!). Now, I live alone. I cannot claim that the mounds of chocolate in the fridge is shared. Or that those packets of microwave popcorn are not mine. Or that those rotting veggies are defs not mine. So I’ve learnt many-a-thing and developed my very own programme for all you fledgling professionals or trust-fund-varsity students.
Want to not die of scurvy? Try the Fool Proof Jess Method of Purchasing, approved by 100%* of test subjects and proven not to give you death-inducing malnutrition by our test group**.
Welcome to 2013 and, hopefully, a more regularly updated blog.
For those of you who know me (which I assume is my entire readership, hi friends!) I’ve been living out of home since 2011. By ‘out of home’ I mean I fled the nest, ditched the parents (hi mom, don’t tell dad what I said!), and lived on my own. First I lived with a friend and then, since last year, I’ve lived on my ownsome! I thought I’d share some pearls of wisdom. Some sage advice. Some pieces of knowledge. Follow, fools, for these are words to live by!