You’ve finally moved off-campus into your own house or apartment and you could not be more excited. Finally, you have a place all to yourself (and like six roommates, but alas, details) and for whatever reason, being off-campus tastes like freedom. You’ve made it. You’re an Adult now. Or so you thought, until you found out what adulting was actually like.
Expectation:
You become a culinary wizard who turns ordinary kitchen ingredients into Four Cheese Italian Elbow Pasta with Creamy Alfredo Reduction.
Reality:
Did you know that Easy Mac only takes three and a half minutes in the microwave? Plus there’s no mess because you can just throw away the container. You don’t even have to go to the grocery store because Amazon sell packs of 36. Talk about a win.
Expectation:
Now that you have your own place, your inner Martha Stewart finally has a reason to shine. With a little help from Pinterest, the common areas will be bohemian yet sophisticated and drawn together with the perfect pastel palette. Your room will look like it was taken straight from a Pottery Barn catalogue.
Reality:
Ain’t nobody got time for that. Seriously, as soon as you unpacked your gazillion boxes, O-week and then classes required 100% of your time and attention. Your room basically looks the same as it always does and the only facelift you gave the place was a new shower curtain because God only knows what that thing touched last year.
Expectation:
Saturday mornings consist of chores that rotate weekly. You and your roommates are all smiles while you scrub your place to the Hot Rhythmic Spotify playlist and the sound of chirping birds. Soft sunlight filters through your windows and a breeze flutters through gauzy curtains.
Reality:
You don’t get up until well into the afternoon on Saturday and the last thing you want to do is accost your splitting head with music that sounds like last night’s regrets. Moving also sounds really awful, and in all honesty you can’t really see the dirt, so you’ll clean up…later.
Expectation:
No more RAs or house directors means that you can finally throw ragers–or at least conveniently attend them. Collegetown is lit 24/7 and now you can be too without having to worry about catching the 90 before it stops running. Sleep is for the weak, am I right?
Reality:
All this responsibility has turned you into an actual old person. Gone are the days when you could stomach three-plus nights of going out. Your new idea of a lit Thursday is lounging in the living room reading Slope articles about cats while eating popcorn in your expandy pants and then going to bed at 10:30.
We get it, adulting is hard. Just don’t forget that it only gets worse from here.
