Sparky = Living in the Basement of Parents' House

So I'm now 2 for 2 ... first, I said I'd never move back to Illinois. (Hello from Peoria) Second, I said I feared living in the basement of my parents' house. Well, soon I'll be living in the basement of my parents' house.

Here's the deal - folks are moving to Washington, which is just across the river from Peoria. I'm currently paying $xxx for rent plus $yyy for utilities (eff you, Ameren Cilco!) plus $zzz for other living expenses. I'm getting married in a year. Folks are building a sweet-pimp house on Pine Lake Golf Course. (Sparky golfs). So, I've been given the option of moving into their fully finished and quite awesome basement, rent free, until well...whenever. Short of throwing keggers, cooking meth, or other unspeakables, I can do what ever I want, whenever I want, on my own schedule. Of course, being the mild mannered person I am, this shouldn't be a problem.

Seeing my track record for such things, let me state right now for the record, I swear I'll never win the lottery. Never. Not in a million years.