The Grand Plan

"Mom, I'm moving back home."

My statement was met with silence. It was several seconds later before my mom replied "Oh I see. Why don't you stay where you are for a bit longer?"

Uhhhh ok. Not exactly the reaction I was looking for. In my mind, I imagined my mom and dad crying with relief, to know that their youngest daughter would be coming home to the family nest. Just a tad bit different to reality. Just a tad.

"No mom, I really want to move back home. I miss you guys."

Silence again.

"Mom? Are you there?"

Muffled noises. Then "Oh ok dear. We miss you too."

Again, not quite the warm reception I had hoped for.

Oh well. My mind was made up - I was going to move back home. I just needed a plan to make it all work.

When I first moved out of home, it was all pretty simple - I had no significant personal ties, no bills of my own to worry about, no job (why did I move out again??!).

Now, I have a fixted-term tenancy agreement for my apartment, a job, bills to pay. I needed to work out how to re-direct my current mailing address so that I could still receive my monthly (and tearfully boring) insurance magazines.

Most importantly, I had to figure out how to bring all my stuff back to my mom & dad's house.

At this point, I would like to mention that my apartment could be best described as an "empire of non-practical things". Not that I collected junk. I just had a lot of useless things.

I lived several hours away from my folks. So even with my moderately-sized four-wheel-drive, I wouldn't be able to see through the rear window if I crammed all my belongings into my car.

So the need for a Grand Plan was absolutely necessary.

After much deliberation, I concluded that my plan of action should be:

1. Look for a new job;

2. Secure a new job;

3. Quit my current job;

4. Call mum & dad to warn them that I'd be home soon;

5. Re-direct my mail;

6. Cancel telephone, electricity, contents insurance;

7. Terminate tenancy agreement;

8. Call mum & dad to warn them that I'd be home soon;

9. Pack for 3 consecutive weeks;

10. Ask an understanding friend and/or relative if I can borrow their car;

11. Ask a willing and gullible buddy to help me pack my stuff into two cars;

12. Call mum & dad to warn them that I'd be home soon;

13. Beg a friend and/ or relative to make the 7-hour journey to my parents' house by driving a car full of my stuff; and

14. Be really nice to my willing and gullible friend/ understanding and naive relative for 2 weeks.

Sounds simple enough, right?

I just needed to kick-start the Grand Plan by tackling #1 on the list - looking for a new job.

Humble Beginnings

I moved away from home a few months ago.

It was a major thing for me.

You see, I had lived with my parents all my life. I never knew a day when my mom or dad wouldn't ask me where I was going, and when I was coming home. It didn't bother me......until, of course, I turned 18.

I had a loose curfew until 12.00am at the age of 20. I say "loose" because my parents told me to be home by 12. I never did come home on time, though. Usually, I would be several hours late. Several hours. Maybe a day or two. I lost count after midnight.

Don't get me wrong - my parents are fantastic. They are two of the most loving, caring and understanding people in my world. I love them to bits. But I needed to spread my wings. And it bothered me a little bit that they were keeping tabs on my whereabouts.

So at the ripe old age of 22 and after graduating from university, I secured a job several hours away from home. At the same time, I bought my first car. (I had been catching public transport for as long as I could remember - I used to drive my parents' car once in a while, but I had never owned a functioning motor vehicle before).

It really looked like everything was set for me to commence my new life.

So I said a teary goodbye to my old life, and embarked on the journey that is now my "independent" life.

I cherished the first few months of living alone - it was a simple decision not to have roommates/ flatmates/ apartment buddies living with me because I really didn't know how well I would react with strangers sharing my toiletries/ clothes/ food.

I felt totally free and "grown-up" - I washed the dishes whenever I wanted, I ate whatever I liked, and best of all, I could come home smelling of alcohol and cigarettes without getting the third degree. I had no curfew. Life was sweet.

However, after a few months, the exhiliration of being "independent" slowly started wearing out.

Shopping for food and household necessities became a tedious chore. Vacuuming, sweeping, washing the dishes, ironing. Replacing lightbulbs. Unblocking the toilet/ shower/ sink. Getting rid of spiders/ cockroaches/ ants.

And then there were the bills.

Despite having the luxury of complete monopoly over my toiletries/ clothes/ food, and having the privacy to sleep with pyjamas that had seen better days, my decision to live alone came with its own unique (?) price - I didn't have much money to spare. After paying the necessary bills every week (including rent), there wasn't much left over for me to enjoy my newfound freedom.

So even though I could (theoretically) go out every night with no curfew to think about, I couldn't afford to.

On top of that, I actually missed my parents keeping tabs on me. I missed my sister calling me weird names. I missed chatting to my mom and sister about girly stuff. I missed having a curfew (and then breaking it!).

I missed home.