A recent graduate of a small liberal arts school in upstate New York, Kate is hunting for an apartment in Boston, where her appetite for fun — and Mexican food– can be sated.
I admit it. I like living at home with my parents. I mean, who can complain about home-cooked meals, high-powered laundry machines, and heaping doses of TLC and soup when you have the sniffles?
Living in my childhood bedroom wasn’t always the plan. Like most of you, I had visions of an IKEA-clad living room and dinner parties that didn’t include my seven-year-old cousins. But the recession happened, and I took a low-paying job that didn’t lend itself to the lifestyle I hoped for.
Although spending time with family has been great, living with your parents carries a stigma. I live in fear of my coworkers thinking that I’m like Will Ferrell’s character in Wedding Crashers– watching black and white cartoons while my mom makes meatloaf in the kitchen.
The truth is, it’s just about time for a space that I can call my own.
Renting a first apartment is daunting. And expensive. And conjures irrational, personal terrors that involve crumbling ceilings, a diet of Ramen noodles and supermarket-brand cheese and a cast of sketchy, loud neighbors.
But, with the right tools, patience, and the will to win, goshdarnit, I have set out with my future roommate, Kelly, to find our first apartment in Boston.
With our first viewings booked for tomorrow, I can saunter through stores fantasizing about my new bedroom and fancy dinner parties to come. And I walk right past the Ramen section with my head held high.