It’s been two months and 16 days of hermitage, away from the delicious call of home-cooked meals, neatly-pressed clothes that smell of Downey Attraction, and the usual dinner table conversations. No one actually believed that I would survive without mom or a platoon of servants during my first month as an independent woman. I did my own cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping and twice-a-week laundry, paid my rent and utilities on time. So far I haven’t set the house on fire – yet – from cooking different flavors of Spam.
Prior to this plan of becoming a responsible adult, I had spent two boyfriend years in postponing the move-out from the family home – calculating the risks of going bust and the perks as well should everything go as planned. I had a 12-month financial plan which included getting a higher income job somewhere, and had envisioned marrying my (ex) boyfriend and producing wonderful babies.
However, it wasn’t easy keeping up to an ideal life with the meager income I was receiving, and a boyfriend who was time zones away. The only logical solution, after much thought, whining and coffee, was to fire my boss and find another company that would afford me an eat-pray-love retirement when I hit my 40’s, Bolognese and wine in Italy, a vacation in a sunny English countryside, a climb up the Himalayas and shopping in Manila. And let go of a relationship that, so sad to say, was not getting us nowhere. Perhaps the next would-be boyfriend would appear in between, if I get really lucky.
So I’m sticking to my guns, and see where this would lead me.
