In a twentysomething houseshare, everyone wants to hang out together loads like best buds.
But you try to pretend your housemates don't exist in a thirtysomething houseshare.
There is never any toilet paper in a twentysomething houseshare...unless someone nicks it from work.
In a thirtysomething houseshare, you buy 12-packs of toilet paper like it's NBD.
Wall art comes in the form of stoner posters in a twentysomething houseshare.
In a thirtysomething houseshare, you'll use a Pinterest picture cluster to claw back any sense that you're living like an adult.
Knocking on each other's doors to hang out in a twentysomething houseshare is not just welcomed, but encouraged.
Disturbing someone in their one solitary lair in a thirtysomething houseshare is worse than finishing their wine.
Your housemates will sneakily finish off your Coco Pops in a twentysomething houseshare.
In a thirtysomething houseshare it'll be the mysterious disappearance of your radicchio that pushes you to new levels of anger.
You'll boast about how amazing your house parties are when you're sharing in your twenties.
In a thirtysomething houseshare, you dread having to make small talk when your housemates have their friends over for dinner.
If someone moves out of your twentysomething houseshare you'll put a ~kooky~ advert for a new one on Gumtree.
New housemates in a thirtysomething houseshare are sought via a "no time-wasters, no students" ad on SpareRoom and serious interrogation.
Falling asleep in the living room in a twentysomething houseshare results in unwanted face art.
Falling asleep in the living room in a thirtysomething houseshare happens after a couple of you have a late-night BBC4 session.
The fridge in a twentysomething houseshare contains only two things: booze and condiments.
You'll fight for space to store your organic-veg box in a thirtysomething houseshare.
Sundays in a twentysomething houseshare are all about hangovers.
Sundays in a thirtysomething houseshare are all about who can make the fanciest eggs.
In a twentysomething houseshare, everybody's shit is everywhere.
In a thirtysomething houseshare, you become obsessed with finding neat and clever ways to disguise signs of communal living.
Zero fucks are given about the state of the bathroom in a twentysomething houseshare.
But a slightly crumpled-up bathmat is enough to tip you over the edge in a thirtysomething houseshare.
Twentysomething housemates message each other all day to plan the evening's sofa-boozing.
In a thirtysomething house you get into lengthy email chains about unacceptable door slamming early in the morning.
In your twenties you think couples who live alone together are exotic and sophisticated.
In your thirties you want to kill all couples who say "I just don't think I could handle living in a houseshare any more," like you have a choice.
The idea of living by yourself in your twenties seem like it would be lonely and sad.
In your thirties the prospect of solo living seems like the absolute dream.