Peterson has made the 300-square-foot space his own, furnishing it with a high-def TV and a beer fridge, and lives as comfortably as can be expected for a six-foot-seven former athlete sandwiched between collections of mothballed clothes and boxes of seasonal decorations. The rest of the house is shared by Peterson's 35-year-old sister, his retired father and his mother, the family's current breadwinner as an administrative assistant for the nearby town of North Hempstead.

Aside from saving on rent, Peterson happily eats his parents' food, runs up their utility bills and otherwise strains their limited resources. In return, he does contribute to the household…sort of. "It's not like I do chores," he says, "but I pick up after myself as I was taught growing up. I do my own laundry—there's a lot of jockeying for the washer and dryer."

Living at home, it's also hard to escape those pesky requests to help out with things, particularly his dad's basement-improvement project. "Having me around means free labor to him. When he needs help running wire, installing pipe or hanging Sheetrock, you best believe I'm going to be enlisted."

And while Peterson lives independently—working full-time in Manhattan, spending weekend evenings out with friends—the return home has exposed him to unsolicited parental advice. "Everyone in the house thinks they know what's best for me," says Peterson. "Like when I go on vacation: Everyone tells me where to go, how to book my arrangements, everything. I have to grin and bear it."

Not that there are so many exotic trips in Peterson's life. His debt problem forces him to lead a relatively spartan existence. "My disposable income is going toward fixing my credit. I'm doing my penance for running up my college bar tab. I've even scaled back my one spending vice, which is buying sneakers." (Peterson has a couple hundred pairs of mint-condition Nikes.)

With personal solvency a short-term goal, Peterson hopes to move to his own place within the next two to three years—and away from Mom and Dad. "I don't see myself living in this area," Peterson says. "The cost of living is ridiculous. Even though I have a master's and make more money than my father did, I couldn't afford anything in Nassau County where I grew up. It's half a million dollars to buy a house. I'll have to look somewhere else."

While a few years may not seem long to wait for home ownership, it's somewhat more trying when one factors in the cockblocking nature of the current situation. "Living at home definitely impedes progress with the ladies," Peterson allows. (Though it's not explicitly verboten, he doesn't feel comfortable bringing women back to his parents' abode.)

When he goes out on Friday, Peterson totes an "emergency backpack" in case of an unexpected tryst. "Finding a woman with her own pad is key," he continues, though he says friends will also offer up their places "if I have a sure thing."

Nonetheless, for the bulk of the week, Peterson's routine is essentially the same as what he's known throughout most of his life. He comes home in the evening and spends family time in the kitchen and den. After meals—cooked by his parents—he retires to his own quarters for welcome solitude. "The attic is my sanctuary; it's the one place in my family's home where I have privacy."

Therein lies one difference from his youth. "At least I'm not in my childhood room," Peterson says. "My parents turned that into a guest room."

See also:
Substitute parental advice | Poll: how old is too old? | Late blooming by the numbers