“Another belief of mine: That everyone else my age is an adult, whereas I am merely in disguise.”
As mentioned many, many, many time before, I fail at being an adult. (Just select the “adulthood” tag at the end of this post and you’ll see.) From constantly forgetting that even though I just paid that bill last month I still have to pay it again this month, to thinking I can function adequately even if I stay up until 1 a.m. reading, it’s just not what I was meant to do. But sometimes, just sometimes, I kind of rock at it. Take this week for example:
Monday: Made this black bean soup and ate off it for three days. Because it was made correctly and tasted good.
Tuesday: Booked a room at the Carolina Inn for a night in December with three of my best friends for our yearly reunion. I’ve always wanted to stay here and this just makes me feel so grown up.
Wednesday: Had dinner with my book club. (Ok, I do this every month. But I’ve been doing so for almost four years, and that’s very adult.)
Thursday:
Took my first class since college. And then, after having drinks with a friend, sucked it up and took a cab back to my apartment since I was not dressed for the elements. (Yes, had I not been out past 11 on a work night I wouldn’t have needed a cab.)
Friday: Admitted I was too exhausted to function and cancelled my Friday night plans. (And effortlessly slept for 12 hours that night, thus further vindicating my lame, but mature, decision.)
Saturday: Had this happen and only mildly complained.
That would be snow. In October. I can’t promise to not move to Guam if this is a harbinger of things to come this winter, but I do promise to be an adult and at least figure out exactly where it is before I call the movers.
Also, knock on wood times infinity because I’m sure I just jinxed the hell out of myself.