Thursday, June 3, 2010

Welcome To Adulthood

Though the United States of America considers a person to be a legal adult at the tender age of eighteen, I do not. Shocker, I know. I can hear the masses now, "WHAT?! How can that be? I mean, at 18 you can vote, buy cigarettes, and even join the army!"

How on earth could I possibly believe that a person is not a true adult once that significant birthday rolls around?

Simple, really. At eighteen I was still a child, blissfully unaware of the responsibilities that come with adulthood. Such responsibilities like waiting six hours for the gas man to show up for five minute job or paying the RIGHT bill and not double paying another.

Sure, I fancy myself a much more wiser woman now at age 23, but I'm still not even to the point of being an adult and truly on my own. Case in point, I'm still in school, living off school loans. Yes, I worked three jobs last year and am still working hard this summer trying to pay for groceries, bills, and gasoline. However, I still rely heavily on my parents for insurance, cell phones, and other non-monetary issues.

Consider the following scenarios, if you will:


1) Last Wednesday, I had my first fenderbender. Who did I call? Dad. Who helped me call the insurance and is helping me get the car fixed? Dad. By the way, the car is still in his name so at least I can hide behind the fact that it isn't wholly mine. He's the owner and I'm the free-loading renter so really I'm taking care of DAD's property...that counts, right?

2) My toilet overflowed this past weekend. Did I know what to do? Obviously not since I was the one who caused the flooding.

**Dear Readers, if you notice the water level in your commode is rising, do NOT flush again. That actually causes the water to spill over onto your bathroom floor, sending you scurrying like a rat in a sewer to higher ground (i.e. up the shower curtain). As you fret about, squealing with shock over the serious problem YOU have caused, be sure to holler for a handsome hero to come save you. Like your boyfriend. Hopefully they are close enough to hear your cries for help and will come rushing in, risking life and limb to save you from the overflowing porcelain potty. Thank you, Pyro Man**

3) Today, my car would not unlock to disarm my alarm system. Therefore, I stood in the pouring rain trying frantically to get into my car so I could head to school in my nice outfit and makeup for a video shoot of the new OCU promo video. Eventually I got in...while the alarm was still going and tried to start the engine, but oh-ho! My car is FANCY and does not actually start if the alarm system is still going off. So what did I do? Called Dad. Then I checked the manual. And called Dad again.

The point to these stories is to say, I don't feel like an adult just yet. Even after a year of living by myself in my own home, I'm not quite there yet and I only believe that because I rely so heavily on the help of my family. Especially Dad. Really, here is how to the calls to Dad go:

"Hello, Dad? Yeah, what do I do when...*insert problem here*?"

or, my favorite:

"Dad? Yeah, I have a question..." <--See, if you preface something with "I've got a question" or "let me ask you a question," it gives the listener a chance to focus before the big blow hits. And gives me time to sum up courage for whatever I'm about to say.

You can ask Dad anything. Car trouble, internet issues, questions on bills, insurance things, cooking questions. No wait, baking questions are for Mom. GRILLING. That's what you ask Dad about, not baking

I can say that I do kill my own bugs, I can make a great home cooked meal, I know how to do laundry, and I can keep a house (ignore the piles though--that's organized chaos). But every day I learn a little bit more about what adulthood is really about and it's nice that I can find some humor in these things now. Hope I can carry that with me down the line 'cause I'm pretty darn sure I'm going to have to face off a clogged toilette again...I'll be ready though!

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