A year later I’m still getting used to having to do my own… everything.

My wife and I moved out of our parents’ in October 2014 so it’s been a little over a year now that we’ve lived on our own. You know, underpants in the walkway and all.

It’s nice to have your own space. Heck, it’s privilege and a dream come true for us and I imagine, any newlyweds. You get to do the aforementioned, for one, and there’s no more brushing up against different egos. (Except for your partner’s, of course, which ought to be sort of your alter ego anyway.) That was such a nice change.

But more than a year into managing our home—cleaning, tidying, stocking groceries—I’m still learning everyday to accept that this is my new life and learning to handle it.

Handle it.

Handling it means knowing when to do a grocery run (when the stock is low but not so low that we’d go hungry or too high that we would be overstocked and waste food). It also means remembering when we last swept and mopped the floor, changed the sheets, the type of bulb that our wall lights use and whether we’ve paid the bills.

For a 26 year old, I must admit, that’s quite a lot to ask. (Am I the only one that feels this way?) But like I said, I’m learning to handle it. I’ll soon get up to speed.

To be honest, though, I thought I’d be a pro by now. Maybe I’m still just a boy. Perhaps I want to be one, and let mum handle it all for me.