When I graduated college in 2010, my parents were so proud of me. I was proud of me, too. Why? Because what Ivy League computer science alum not only scores an entry-level software engineering gig at Google but also manages to live in a killer, rent-controlled one-bedroom with lots of sunlight, a backyard patio, and hardwood floors on the Upper West Side of New York City?
Not only that, but this pad came furnished with a state-of-the-art flatscreen TV and a complimentary meal plan. And I didn’t have to pay a dime!
The only downside was that our bedroom didn’t quite fit two queen-sized beds, so my parents have felt a little cramped in their twin cot. Our Bernese Mountain Dog, Kenneth, requires ample space to spread out.
This arrangement was very amenable to my lifestyle for years. Mama brought me breakfast in bed – crispy bacon and grits with extra smoked cheddar (I don’t like the regular kind) – on workdays, and then I’d hop on the 2/3 train to head downtown to the Google offices. The chef at my favorite meal station quickly learned to avoid putting the color green in my food.
On the fourth Saturday of every month, Mama poured me half a shot of Bison Grass vodka and sat me in front of a Full House rerun while she and Papa had sex in the bedroom. They think I don’t know that’s what they were doing, but I know.
When COVID struck, it was a trying time. Mama and Papa understood that I have a demanding job now that I’m a Software Engineer III and thus needed the bedroom to both do my work between the hours of 9 a.m. and 5:01 p.m. and play Minecraft undisturbed between the hours of 5:01 and 9 p.m., so they have been doing their work in the living room. Mama in particular finds this quite challenging because her patients have apparently complained that they can overhear me playing Meat Loaf on repeat and don’t believe a clinical psychologist can truly devote her full attention to their needs while “I’d Do Anything for Love” is blasting in the background.
Hence, Mama and Papa talked it over (I don’t know when, but maybe it was after my bedtime of 9:01 p.m.) and have concluded that since it has been more than two weeks since I received my second dose of the Pfizer vaccine and I am 33 ¼ years old, I must be ready to move out of their bedroom.
To that end, we are currently in search of a two-bedroom apartment, preferably on the UWS and rent-controlled. We are welcoming a new addition, too – a brother or sister for Kenneth – whom we also expect to be a Bernese Mountain Dog or maybe a Rottweiler-pitbull mix.
