You Think you’re a Grown up, but then…


Paperfeet the cat

Adulthood happens to most of us. And it really is one of those I just woke up one day and… situations. You don’t plan on it. Nobody I know has ever said “This year, I’m going to start being an adult.”

One day you realize that your decisions are more rational, that instead of frozen pizza and packaged ham, the majority of your groceries consists of vegetables and meat. You pay bills on time and you meet your obligations without resorting to excuses.

There is no doubt that those things carry a sense of stable, comfortable joy. However, if you’re like me, you have little moments that occasionally bring you down a notch on the respectable adult scale. Just to remind you not to get too big for your Buster Browns.

 

Some of those moments have happened to an unnamed mostly respectable author and adult in the last two weeks. He asks that you add your own moment to the comments below, so as to make him feel better about himself.

You think you’re a grown up, but then…

You spend four hours reading alternate Harry Potter theories.

You reward yourself with a cookie for making your bed.

You catch yourself saying “no, you shut up” and “FML” right in the same day.

You trick someone into smelling your fart.

You eat a bowl of cereal for dinner. And then you eat another one.

You throw a tantrum and publicly execute an umbrella.

You have a panic attack in Bauhaus’s (Home Depot) home furnishings aisle.

You wince and do a what a shame head shake when hearing the news that someone you know is pregnant.

You rationalize drinking on Wednesday because you won’t be able to go drinking on Saturday.

You consider hedging your (non-fudged) CV because it makes you feel like a fraud.

You claim not to want a waffle iron because you won’t use it enough, but the real reason is that you can’t commit to a waffle iron.

You flexed in the mirror and said “Hulkamania!”

Your most recent addiction is a strawberry milk.

You get a Papier-mâché cat and introduce him to his real sister, You name that cat Paperfeet.

You spend Saturday night watching 80s romantic comedies, feeling nostalgic, and repeatedly saying to your partner in crime, “this is how I spent every Saturday night in my teens.”

You call your (real) cat a jerk.

You ask your cat why she pooped on the floor. And wait an inordinate period of time for an answer.

Your argument with your cat puts you in a bad mood at work.

You buy your cat a treat on the way home to make up.

You spend 800 Koruna (40ish bucks) on groceries and then get Chinese food.

You make a lunch decision based solely on the fact that you will need to put on pants to get better food.

You eat a bag of peanuts and a jar of sauerkraut for lunch. (Pantless)

You would feel more comfortable with adult supervision while lighting a charcoal grill.

When discussing a possible PhD with a professor, the thought of someone being forced to call you “doctor” makes you giggle.

You say this: “I want to go outside and play.”

You are afraid of getting in trouble for reading a sex scene in a book in public.

You start downloading all of your favorite Saturday morning cartoons from 1987.

You buy a sugar-based cereal.

You haven’t looked forward to a Saturday morning this much in 31 years.

Comments are closed.