Most of the time I make a decent showing of being an adult. I get through the day without injuring myself in a freak accident, my kids make it to bedtime in one piece. Hell, sometimes I even write blog posts about being a fucking adult.
I am SO not an adult. I haven’t even remotely ‘got this shit’, despite what countless memes try to tell me. Some days I feel as though I’m constantly tripping over myself, running like fuck to keep up and dropping all the plates on the way.
I get out of bed in the morning and have to climb over the floordrobe to get to the bedroom door. Some days it takes until I get to the bloody door to be able to stand upright because my middle-aged bones ache – surely if I’m old enough to have creaky bones I’m old enough to remember to hang my clothes up? I even bought new rails to encourage myself to do it, for fuck’s actual sake. Then I bought extra clothes hangers for all the things I was going to hang up. So now I have clothes rails covered with hangers and a floor covered in all of the clean clothes that need washing again because the puppy made a bed in them.
Coffee makes everything better, so I go to make coffee. The coffeepot’s broken but I’m still using it cos I traipsed all over town yesterday to get a replacement only to decide when I finally got home that it’s not quite what I wanted. So this morning will be spent returning it and buying the better one that I did actually consider buying yesterday but it was a bit more expensive and I decide to save the money only I’ve now spent the difference in fucking fuel running around looking at coffeepots that are all the bloody same anyway.
And now I’m in the kitchen with my coffee there’s a pile of paperwork sitting on the table next to me that absolutely had to be done yesterday only I was efficient and sorted it out into piles so I would know where to start with it but then the kids started kicking off at each other and I spent so long refereeing that I forgot about the paperwork and here we are today and the paperwork’s late and probably I will get arrested or something.
I ought to distract myself by deciding what we’re having for tea, because then I could get any bits we need whilst I’m out replacing the goddamn bloody coffeepot. But I can’t see what we need because the fridge is full to bursting, mostly with stuff that we don’t need but which I bought because it was on offer and it’s now gone mouldy and stale and I cannot face sorting through it all in order to see what’s there. So I’ll just shut the door on the fridge and pretend it’s not there and drink more coffee. From the broken coffeepot.
Fuck you, Meme Baby. I really don’t got this.