Not adulting successfully

When I was a kid, and even when I was in the throes of that heady bloom of early-adult age, I thought that once a I got to be a truly grownup age I would really have my stuff together. You know, be responsible, know things, do things more right.

As I get older I am left to wonder if it’s simply not true that grownup age equals grownup capabilities or if I missed a lesson somewhere along the way. Or maybe I was supposed to pick up an “Own Your Grownup-ness” manual at some point but lacked even enough sense of personal responsibility to stop and say, “Oh, hey, yeah, I’ll go grab me one of those. That’ll provide some nice handy tips to properly direct my future.”

Yup.

I look at some people and I think, “Wow, you’ve really got your life together.” And following that thought, I think, “If you don’t have dirty dishes hiding in your stove, or a pile of already-worn clothes on your dresser labeled in your mind as ‘meh, I could still wear that in a pinch,’ or your bra isn’t held together with a paper clip and a prayer, there’s no way we could tolerate each other enough to be friends.”

(FYI, those are just random examples, I would accept other signs that we are on the same level of adult development like left-over spaghetti and cheesecake for breakfast because you ran out of real breakfast foods or you accidentally used a cuss word in polite company.)

It’s not that I don’t try to be an adult, or at least think about trying to be an adult.

Some days, like Monday, I think I’m adulting quite successfully. I get up on time. I get morning chores done on time — in chore clothes, not town-decent clothes. I throw my office clothes on for work and rush out the door on time. I do my job to the best of my ability with a positive attitude and a few well-directed sarcastic barbs.

And at the end of my work day I look down at my feet and realize that for the past six hours in public I have been wearing mismatched shoes.

Please see Exhibit A pictured here.

I just feel a little deflated. Y’know? I thought I was killing the adulting that day.

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In my defense, the shoes were the same brand and shape, so I do have that going for me at [email protected].