The past few weeks since graduation have been adventures in adulthood (or something like that). Granted, one of those weeks was spent at Carolina Beach, where the extent of being an adult was not getting a sunburn (harder than it sounds when you look like me) and walking to the kitchen table to eat the already cut fruit and already fried eggs that Mr. Rich had so kindly prepared.
But since then, adult. And there have been some high points.
For one thing, I’m finally out of a dorm room. I have my own space to live in and arrange, I don’t have to walk down the hall to the bathroom, I have a parking spot and I have these super cool shelves.
And, without homework, I’ve had time to read just because – hello, Harry Potter – and even run every once in a while.
However, there have also been low points, some how-did-I-even-survive-to-be-22 moments.
Like when my headlight went out and I learned that my trusty Sub has at least six different kinds of lights that my dad could inquire about by phone (good thing the magic iPhone sends pictures). Or when I learned that to replace this “headlight” you have to take out the battery (thanks, Dad). And when the battery is unhappy you’re likely to find yourself immobile in the face of a green light.
Also like when I apologetically tried to talk bank stuff with a teller.
And let’s just talk about food.
Food costs money and going to the grocery store requires more planning than you expect. Sometimes when your stove doesn’t have an exhaust fan the fire alarm goes off. And, similarly, butter doesn’t function as closely to olive oil as one might expect. On occasion, you find even yourself googling things like this:
I promise I graduated… But I think that this might end up being one the most important parts of adulting.
If you ever find yourself in the following situation:
1. You want fried eggs,
2. Mr. Rich is not around,
3. and you only know how to make scrambled eggs…
Then figure out how to make the stupid eggs, eat them even if they’re not the greatest and do it again.
I know I’m speaking to “you,” to “one,” when maybe you already know how to adult. To avoid offending you, I should give some context.
I was praised for my accomplishments in high school. I was good at reading, writing, memorizing, analyzing… But what I was actually good at was obeying. People pleasing. Rising or falling to the expectations set for me. And now that I’m done with school indefinitely, what I have to accomplish, what I am expected to accomplish, is more unclear.
So, at least for me, for now, to adult is to force myself to daily do the small things that I don’t know how to do. To force myself to accomplish things that I’d – very lazily – just rather not bother with. To do things that no one has told me to do and to be ok with looking dumb.
To adult is to make fried eggs.
And, as always, I hope you take everything I say with a grain of salt.