“Bills suck.”
I feel like an adult already.
Last May, I graduated (cum laude!) from the Honors College at Georgia College. You can check my profile for those details, but the short-‘n-sweet of it is, I did alright for myself in college. Plenty of experience working in my field of study, good recommendations, blah blah blah.
I didn’t party in college (not the type), but I wasn’t in the library all the time, either (I work with video – we hate libraries!). I worked in some capacity for a radio station, two newspapers, a campus TV station, intramurals as a referee, campus ministry as a leader, and that’s just the official positions (see: Guy who knows how to do things right in his major and is sought out by younger students just entering the program).
And what did all that work do?
I hate bills.
I lived in a dorm for four years – not necessarily because I wanted to, but because I saw a need to share the Gospel with students, and living in a dorm is strategic sense because you share a lot of your life with them already. But being in a dorm has perks, too: Unlimited utilities, free Internet, a janitor to keep the halls and stairs clean, and proximity to campus all help the college-kid budget.
Now, I live in a house where the lights are off whenever the sun is shining (and often when it isn’t), the A/C has yet to be cranked below 78, and that’s only when we have people over. Heck, some days I walk in from work and wonder if I took a right turn to the sauna.
We pay for Internet?! What a weird concept, even if seven guys in one house (divided into three apartments, mind you) are splitting the cost. Heck, we have to pay for a gym membership, too – but it’s not a $150 “student fee” that colleges have fallen in love with.
Don’t ask about the cleaning. Well, actually, we’re pretty good about it. Hardwood floors in the living room and kitchen, that’s what’s in my apartment. So sweeping every so often and mopping every other week aren’t too bad. We don’t have a dishwasher – thaaaaaat’s provided a few interesting experiences to this date. (Please, whatever you do…always wash the pot or pan you cook all your beef in immediately after you’re done with it….)
Then there’s this whole concept of actually having a yard. It’s shared with the girls next door (we’re all in a downtown ministry together) in the back, and it’s just big enough for a good 4-on-4 game of whiffle ball. Except there’s a couple of massive trees back there, too – and one decided drop begin all dying on us and everything. But hey! It’s a pecan tree! Leave those nuts for a few weeks and we’ll have a pie in no time!
Oh, and the parents aren’t available to help pay for things like a dead battery. I drive a minivan – c’mon, now you don’t want to work?! You got a cool nickname (“The Man Van” – not my idea, but I have never complained), am consistently hauling beautiful women to and from things and receiving their gratitude, and it’s only a win if you pull a crazy maneuver on the highway because expectations are low…and you don’t want to work.
New nickname: Emotional, Selfish Jerkface.
Hooray independence, right?