I turned 25 in January, and celebrated by moving to my Dad's house. I'm trying not to feel weird about missing out on fun, which is probably the thing about living at home that trips me up the most: sober-driving home a bit earlier than usual, or committing to a taxi home before everyone gets a second wind and stays out all night. I've become really comfortable on the couch, I weep over Catelynn and Tyler on 16 and Pregnant and watch far too much Jersey Shore.* Dad's house has a hammock to lie in, an elderly cat to befriend, a kitchen full of healthy food. I've paid off my credit card. The best thing about my Dad's house is my Dad, though. I haven't lived with him for more than four days at a time since I was ten. I get to hear the best, most punny Dad jokes before anyone else. So all in all, I think this is a good thing.
*and feel vaguely and confusingly attracted to The Situation