Living alone is like living with your parents, but the only catch is that you are your parents.
The food is on the stove (read: microwave) when you come home from work (after you cook it). Your clothing is washed and folded (after you’ve washed and folded it… if you’ve washed and folded it). Rent is something you never have to worry about paying and you can slack off at work and take personal shopping days because everything is under control (after you’ve worked your ass off every day with overtime to scare off any notion that you might have to sacrifice rent money to stave off starvation).
So, in conclusion, living alone is nothing like living with your parents.
(The featured image is has a story: This soup, which I have taken to calling “Mexican Chicken and Corn Soup” has made me fall in love with the roommate of my friend Femme Noir. It’s DIVINE! I will get the recipe from her one day soon.)