A friend of mine recently wrote about growing up, and how it seems to happen without even trying. How over time you learn to clean up after yourself, how to take care of yourself, how to motivate yourself. Well, if that's what growing up is, I've never felt like more of an adult than I do now.
This isn't the first time I've moved out of my parents' house (nor is it Shawn's) but it is the first time I feel I've done it with so much planning and responsibility. Shawn and I put a lot of thought into the whole process and we didn't just jump in. Our mentality throughout was "we're not doing this like college students; we're adults now", and I like to think the outcome of everything shows that. We have a decent relatively new apartment (although the floors aren't entirely level, there are no holes or mold in the walls, it gets decent lighting, and it's not grimy like a frat house), decked out with brand new furniture (none of that used up, old energy feel that comes from used furniture), and decorated with a bit of kitsch and class (Asian art, lots of clocks, and knick knacks). We keep the place clean, and somewhat organized. And I try to remember not to stray too far from the kitchen when I'm munching on crumbly things.
Now I understand why the pantry is so big! You need space for all the food you finally start learning to cook for yourself at home (no empty pizza boxes in this kitchen, and no Lean Cuisines in our freezer!), and then supplies to clean up the mess you inevitably make while cooking up dinner, and of course, a vacuum for when I get overly excited and drop my freshly baked chocolate chip cookie right onto the living room carpet.
Ah, the adult life.
...PS... dinners you've missed!