Parents are great at being parents and not so great at being the choicest of roommates …

Growing up just ain’t what it used to be. Saddled with massive debt and thwarted by an underwhelming economy, droves of young adults are doing the walk of shame back to the house they were born in and moving back in with their parents. The problem is so bad in fact, that a report by the Pew Research Center found only 67 percent of millennials are living on their own. This means a whopping one-third of you have to ask Dad if your 29-year-old girlfriend Mandy can spend the night. If you listen closely you can almost hear the “MOM, THE MEATLOAF!” chants echoing from basement-dwelling adult-like creatures dispersed across this great land.

While there may be many perks of moving back in with the ‘rents, the cons increase day by day. With that said, we’ve compiled a list documenting the odd transformation and re-acclimation of today’s millennials back into suburban captivity. Not that we’d know from first-hand experience, or anything …

1. You gain 10 pounds because real humans like your parents keep their cabinets full of actual food

Unlike living on your own, or having a roommate or two, you learn the fridge isn’t simply a place to shovel 12-packs of Mike's Hard into with rotting containers of miscellaneous take-out. Although a fridge makes for a perfect pizza box Parthenon, this approach may lack nutritional substance and dietary variation and could quite possibly lead to scurvy. The parents, on the other hand, have refrigerators, back-up refrigerators and deep-freezers full of all kinds of things to zap, bake and deep fry to your heart’s content at a moment’s notice.

Just remember, as you go for that bag of pizza rolls: a moment on the lips is forever on the hips … if you forget this limerick, your Mom will definitely let you know when you start to fill out those jeans that used to be your Dad’s.

2. You go to bars in the suburbs

They exist!

To keep from catching cabin fever or being caught watching your parents get touchy-feely over wine spritzers, you sometimes just need to get out of the house. Anywhere out of the house that's close by and has booze will do. That either means that you really get to know the bartenders at Chili’s, or you become a regular at that creepy hole-in-the-wall down the street that's full of denim-clad SKOAL types who assume you’re voting for Bernie Sanders because you went to college.

3. ‘Live, Laugh Love’ becomes a ruminating thought on severe hangovers …

This saying, which somehow ubiquitously found itself plastered on everything from throw pillows to doilies in your new home, is essentially the mocking antithesis to your current situation. Especially when it comes to hangovers.

The morning after a rowdy night at the aforementioned Chili’s, those B.O.G.O. margs are finally catching up with you. You find yourself just standing there in the bathroom, staring at your baggy-eyed reflection in the mirror, framed ironically by a pair of matching ‘his’ and ‘her’ hand towels and an overhead set of ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ decorative bookends. You realize you are God's joke, but you're okay with it because you're too hungover to mount a resistance.

4. There’s a 50/50 chance the neighbors who’ve you known since childhood assume you’re a recovering addict

The neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, were great people when you were little. You played hide-and-seek with their children and ate many a Bagel Bite in their sunroom. Things are different now.

They’ve settled into their golden years, their children your age are off leading successful lives at TD Ameritrade and Budget Rental Car. They watch suspiciously as you pull the garbage can down the driveway, wondering just went wrong with "this one."

‘"The drugs’ no doubt … always ‘the drugs," they're probably thinking right now, as they peer through their white lace curtains at your mom's gardenias.

5. You re-remember all the ways you used to not get caught smoking weed at home

We can legally smoke weed all we want in this great state. It’s been voted on, debated yada yada yada. However, the luxury of recreational goods, which may or may not hinder work ethic and condone long couch hangs, doesn’t really help sell the whole crucial ‘working towards getting on my feet’ aspect of living with the ‘rents.

The awkward midnight toke between the trusty juniper bushes in the backyard, as adolescent and unnecessary it may feel, is best for all parties involved. It also may mean buying dryers sheets for the first time in your adult life to make one of those paper towel roll contraptions to exhale into. You know the one …

6. You spend more time talking to the family dog than you do having real conversations with your friends

This is just a cruel, sad part of the return to the homestead. You don’t go out as much as you used to, and your friends are sure as hell not stopping by to hang or crash on your couch. There’s a social void to be filled.

Enter the family dog. The family dog doesn’t care that you’re a moderate failure in the larger scheme of things. He doesn’t care that it’s 2 p.m. and you’re still dressed amorphously in sweats and other ill-fitting, yet soft and comfortable articles. He doesn’t shun you the way the Andersons do, he knows it isn’t the drugs, you could’ve worked at Budget Rental years ago if you wanted to. You have higher goals for yourself, dreams, says the family dog. Just remember to give him a treat or two now and then or even he won’t care to hear about your woes.

7. Your Mom wants to help with the list of ‘7 things that happen when you move back in with your parents in your 20s’

Look, Moms are great people. They're even better when you see them exactly when you want to see them. The last thing anyone wants to do after a long day at work is have a conversation about those eight Natural Light cans in the garbage, or listen to a run-down on something completely irrelevant she heard Nancy Grace talk about on the television. Moms mean well, they want to help, they want to make sure you’re getting enough sleep, enough to eat, make sure you know that your keys are by the door, that your back tire is a little flat, your credit card is past due — hell hath no fury like the post-menopausal Smother Mother 21st century reboot.

In the meantime, there’s no rush, just do things at your own pace. Many people your age are sucking up their pride at the expense of their social lives and petty notions of self-worth. Just hang in there, that dream job with National Geographic, 72K annually, a 401K, a corporate card and tuition reimbursement will come to fruition in no time. Or so it goes …