The second place I called home was my only bachelorette pad. It wasn’t much, but I’ll never forget it.

I lived with my parents until I was 21. I had planned on getting my Bachelor’s degree, but by the time I earned my Associate’s I was more interested in partying than school. That, and I really didn’t see the point. I wanted to own my own business one day, and I didn’t feel that I needed a four-year degree to do it.

Anyway, once I got out of school, I just kind of floated through life for a while. I worked full-time, but I also partied full-time. My parents didn’t like that, and once I got a job that paid substantially more than minimum wage, I found myself an efficiency apartment and moved out.

The apartment was in the heart of the nearest small city, where I was working, and which was about 45 minutes away from the parents. Actually, the apartment had at one time been a hotel room. It was tiny, but I had room for all of my earthly possessions. And most importantly of all, I had freedom.

I didn’t stay there much. There were times when I was there during the week and gone for the weekend, but other times I would stay gone for weeks at a time. I rarely had anyone over due to lack of space. But I did hang out with the landlords on occasion. They would send me out to get drinks after work in exchange for sharing with me.

I kept that place for about a year. By that time I was practically living somewhere else anyway. More on that tomorrow.