Wait… am I an adult?

23 04 2010

I think that, technically speaking, I’m an adult. I look like an adult.  I’m the right age to be an adult.  I can drive, vote, buy liquor, rent a car, sign for a hotel room, pay taxes, nurture plants, etc.

But I don’t really feel like an adult.  I feel like a 26-year-old intern living in a mouse-infested frat house with a 34-year-old toddler who can’t even get it together to pay our gas bill.

That’s right– our gas was turned off this week.  No hot showers, no working stove.  So we opened our roommate’s mail to find a notice of discontinuation because he hadn’t paid the gas bill in three months.  Luckily for him, he is currently traveling in Asia, so he hasn’t had to face us yet…or the burnt popcorn we dumped in his underwear drawer as retribution.

You know, if I had been born in the 1930s, I would probably be married with 2.5 kids by now. I’d have a house, a dog, a lovely red sofa, my own cookware, and blossoming garden of herbs.  I’m not saying that’s necessarily preferable, although it is a stark contrast to my current living situation, where three adult women and two adult men share a kitchen the size of a postage stamp with a rarely-functional dishwasher, an old couch that is so torn up we have to strategically cover the rough spots with “throw blankets,” and one storage closet that our landlord has locked us out of because he felt like it was “too cluttered” with our belongings.

For this reason, I am thrilled to announce that yesterday, I closed the deal on a shiny new house in Mount Pleasant where three girlfriends and I will be relocating on the first of June.  This house is far superior to my current house because A) it has a yard and a deck, B) it has a pool table that converts into a dining room table, C) we will be bringing our own furniture, D) our landlord is allowing me to adopt a dog and E) my roommates are all (well, mostly) clean, responsible women who are just as excited about having a normal, well-kept house as I am and will actually pay our utility bills.

Every time I think about this new house, I picture myself reclining on the front porch with a little dog on my lap and a mug of freshly-brewed coffee in my hand, playing scrabble with my roommates and waving to our young, hip neighbors as they pass.  Oh, it’s going to be glorious.




13 responses

23 04 2010

I don’t know if I would call you or the one other girl who lives with you now who shall remain nameless “clean” because I have seen both your rooms before. But congrats and it sounds wonderful and especially deserved. I think the popcorn as revenge is completely insufficient.

23 04 2010

Nurturing plants is the quintessential sign of that you have entered adulthood… I hope to reach that stage in my 3 year plan.

23 04 2010

My mother gave me a lucky bamboo as a house warming gift 4 years. It requires no sun light and water once a week. That being said, it has come close to dying on multiple occasions.

23 04 2010

Yeah, I had some low-maintenance bamboo once, too. Dehydrated it to death. Made me feel terrible.

23 04 2010

In my attempt to neurotically clean our frat house/mouse den, I replaced the strategically-placed throw blanket, so the blue couch has moved up marginally from something the Salvation Army wouldn’t even take to something Jodi might want to put on your front porch while you are playing beer pong. However, the one that we usually use cannot be found (the one that looks like a bear, a lovely combo puke green shag and black velour), so I can only assume that the weird Russian PhD student that lives in the attic has squirreled it away in an attempt to recreate his couch sleeping style that has become so furiously maligned. Don’t worry, I am taking care of the situation.

23 04 2010

Congratulations. I think someone needs to throw a shower and give you gift baskets full of toilet brushes and feather dusters.

23 04 2010

YES, can i please have a new house shower? Any kind of shower would be an improvement at this point.

23 04 2010

Make a pregnancy pact, then you can all have baby showers.

23 04 2010
Billy Joel

Your blog is nothing but worthless post-modern feminist crap that is epistemically unfounded and generally nothing more than an entitled unsuccessful young woman’s ramblings. Please stop posting for the good of the world, or you will continue to suffer from your own devices.

24 04 2010
Upset blog follower

Mr. Joel (if that’s your real name…)
I’m sure this is not a serious comment, or at least I hope it is not (for you), because if it is a serious comment then I’m going to find you and cut your face repeatedly.

Laura–congrats on the new crib!

24 04 2010

Haha- BillyJ, if you were expecting something other than an unsuccessful young woman’s post-modern feminist ramblings, you came to the wrong place. Did you get lost trying to find a blog about middle-aged pedophiles with erectile dysfunction?

Please, feel free to remove yourself from my readership.

24 04 2010


24 04 2010

Uh oh…I think maybe “Billy Joel” might be that weird Russian Phd dude that lives in your attic. Better lock your bedroom door tonight, DR.

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