Adulting

According to the Urban Dictionary, the definition of adulting is the following: “to do grown up things and hold responsibilities such as, a 9-5 job, a mortgage/rent, a car payment, or anything else that makes one think of grown ups.”

Today I am on strike from being an adult.

I don’t feel like working. I don’t feel like paying bills. I don’t feel like having any responsibilities of any kind. I also don’t feel like shoveling the hard snow bank that’s half way up my door AGAIN.

Last night I was trying to be a hero and shovel our front step so our house could at least look civilized. I was sweating like a pig after moving my sister in a blizzard. I figured I was already this far into a heart attack and pulled muscles that I might as well keep going. Kenton was disgusted with me and told me to stop shoveling because there was no use – it would just be back in the a.m.. And he was right. I came in the house and peeled off 500 layers of wet clothes. All I had to show for my hard work was sweaty toque hair, red cheeks, and wheezing lungs.

This morning I was secretly hoping it would still be cleared off but instead it came back with a vengeance and replaced itself with a hard snow bank. I felt like I was crawling down Mount Everest because the stairs are buried. I almost broke my neck trying to clamber over it to my Jeep. Ps. When I saw the snow I almost just shut the door and locked it. Snow days should be an appropriate excuse to stay in your dark warm burrow all day.

I detest expenses I cannot control. Like plates, insurance, bills, food (who needs to eat anyways?), personal hygiene products, and the list goes on.

There isn’t much I can do about these expenses. I guess I can walk around and hitchhike to the city therefore eliminating the costs of vehicles/insurance. I can starve myself and just eat crumbs that I find at the office, and I could stop buying shampoo – develop dreads and smell like a garbage bin.

I am an organized person and I like to know how much money I have to my name. Since I’ve become a home owner it seems like I have a hole in my pocket and my eyes have $$ in them. When I lived in Regina I did not spend nearly as much money as I do now. Every time I go to the city it’s like my brain thinks we’re never coming back. My account opens up to the world and before you know it I have extreme buyers remorse and want to light my car on fire.

Remember in high school when you got a pay cheque for $800 and thought you were a rich celebrity and could buy whatever you wanted? And by whatever you wanted, I mean McDonalds and gas to get to McDonalds. And skater shoes.

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