World is oyster when you move out

Watching a young friend prepare to move into his first apartment has thrust me into a period of nostalgia.

Remember when getting out on your own was the most wonderful thing that could happen to you? Back then, I wrote out my monthly rent check with a flourish, savoring the thought of another month in MY apartment with all of MY things living MY way.

(It actually was a badly furnished trailer with green shag carpet and a large, discolored spot I never asked my landlord about, but you get the picture.)

Of course, the friend and I came to be on our own in different ways. Guy is 21, has a full-time job and is becoming a little self-conscious about asking girls out given his current living situation. (Think: "We could listen to CDs in my room -- if we leave the door open!")

Me? It was just past my 19th birthday when my parents appeared in the doorway of my bedroom wearing falsely chipper "Hey, pal! Let's have a little chat after which there will be a major life change on your part!" looks on their faces.

Ends up they wanted to know if I'd ever considered getting out on my own -- and wouldn't this be a great time to do it?

The difference? Guy is the oldest of two children. I am the oldest of five children. The last stick of furniture was not out of my bedroom before my little sister was standing in the doorway with a suitcase and her "Hello Kitty" collection. The other kids were in the den computing how much the pizza slice-per-person equation would differ in my absence.

Another difference: Guy's job doesn't involve picking up doughnuts and cigarettes for the boss on the way to work every morning, whereas mine did. My weekly salary divided by hours worked fell well below the minimum wage.

So he will be living in a nice apartment in a good neighborhood, whereas I lived in a mobile home that came with a washing machine. Unfortunately, that washing machine was broken and sat in the middle of the front yard throughout my stay because the landlord never followed through on a promise to move it.

Guy also bought some new dishes and hopefully will get some other kitchenware, appliances and furniture at a housewarming party.

My home furnishings were a collection of cast-off items from my parents, which means all my "glasses" were plastic and had the names of convenience stores printed on their sides. There were not two plates or pieces of silverware that matched each other.

But the freedom made it all worthwhile. Yes, I was terribly homesick for awhile -- my family was two hours away -- but I also was alive with discovery about the unnecessary rules passed on from parent to child across the generations. I'll share those discoveries with Guy:

If there are two boxes of different kinds of cereal in your pantry, there is no need to finish the older box before opening the newer box. Go ahead and open both boxes and enjoy the kind of cereal you feel like having that day. No one will die.

Furthermore, you can have cereal for dinner and pizza for breakfast. Go ahead. There is no one to stop you.

If you are running behind and don't get around to making your bed, don't give it a second thought. The bed will remain just where you left it, comfortable and willing to receive your tired body at the end of another hard day. No one will have been in your bedroom while you were gone, reeling with the shock of seeing your messy bed.

Watch bad television until 3 a.m. Make up for it Saturday by sleeping late and spending the rest of the day watching a "Trading Spaces" marathon.

Walk around in your underwear.

Stand with the refrigerator door open as long as it takes you to make up your mind. You will NOT refrigerate the whole neighborhood.

The world is your oyster. Enjoy it while it's still new.

Heidi Hall is managing editor of the Southeast Missourian.