It’s been about 2 months since I’ve moved into my mother’s place. Some may wonder if I’m planning to live with her for the rest of my life. To that I say, no, but maybe for the rest of her life. I haven’t lived with my mother for 10 years but not because I wanted independence so badly but because location wise it was inconvenient. Also, when I first told her I was moving out temporarily she saw that as an opportunity to rent out my room. With a cross-dresser living in my room waltzing around in his French maid getup, it made moving back not an option. The first time I had met him he was eating a sausage with no bun.
In terms of my mother’s schedule, it wasn’t much different than it is now. She’s out the door at 9 AM and doesn’t come home until after 11 PM for 6 days of the week. Yep, 14 hours working at a restaurant like she’s been doing for the last 40 years. When I was a kid I would be gone to school before she woke and asleep before she came home. Now that I don’t have a mandated bedtime, I see her for 15 minutes before I go to bed. If I wanted to I could have cocaine and hooker parties from 11 AM to 11 PM.
Instead of parties though, if I’m not volunteering I’m cleaning and making improvements to the home like the good stay-at-home-son that I am. There’s also other duties that I tend to such as automobile, technology and English comprehension needs. I get the sense that she likes me being here and I think the dog feels the same way too.