Growing up is hard to do

Guzzy wants to move into an apartment with her BFF.   BFF is a year older than Guzzy, and has spent that year living (more-or-less) on her own in Denver.  She recently returned to the village of her youth with pink hair, a variety of piercings, a yippy puppy, no job, and grand plans to move into an apartment with HER best friend… my Guzzy.

BFF often stays with us while they seek a more sustainable living arrangement.  With the notable excpetion of yippy puppy, BFF is a thoughtful and low maintenance houseguest; although I did a sleepy double-take one recent morning to find pink hair tangled in the hair brush on the bathroom counter.

Guzzy has a pretty sweet deal living here:  she pays a ridiculously low, symbolic, rent for her large bedroom;  private bath; food (frequently cooked for her); all utilities, including cell service with unlimited data; washer and dryer, and someone to play cards with late at night.  What could be better?

One word:  independence.  Moving out of the parental home is an important milestone in anyone’s journey to adulthood.  From my middle-aged perch, I still remember the urgent desire of my late teens to be on my own –to be independent and make my own decisions about my life.

As one of my oldest daughter’s friends once said:  “Everyone should experience living in their own filth”.  After all, living on one’s own, means cleaning up after oneself.

It is unlikely that Guzzy and BFF will be moving in the near future; since apartment building managers are pencil-necked weenies that have unrealistic requirements concerning income verification and pets.

But… I know that at some point in time, with or without BFF in tow;  Guzzy will figure out a way to move out.  She will pack her bags, she will raid our closets and scrounge for used furniture.

Once relocated, she will call me with questions such as:  is it OK to eat expired yogurt?;  how do you clean leather? What should I wear to this concert? What do you do when you hit a deer?

She will come home when she has dirty laundry, or when she craves a home cooked meal, or when she misses the dog, or when a boy has done her wrong, or when she needs a loan, or when she wants to play cards.  Maybe I will actually see her more than I do now.

I miss her already.

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