Regressing is totally rad.

I live in my parents' basement. It looks like a lawyer's office and has a bar and a bathroom and a bedroom and a living room and isn't like the basements that I imagine World of Warcrafters live in until they're 40.

And sometimes, when I'm laying on the couch bundled up in a down comforter watching a marathon of Dexter and being totally devoid of any adult responsibilities, my dad will appear in my basement apartment and hand me a dish of exquisite homemade pudding topped with fluffy whipped cream.

I pay nothing for these fancy quarters and this extraordinary service, and it makes me wonder, why did I ever leave home?