You guys. It's been a week. Okay, so I like to think that I'm pretty good at the whole "being an adult" thing.  I pay my bills on time, I own a home, I have two vehicles WITH insurance, and I have a regular B12 vitamin routine.  My credit score is pretty okay, you guys. Responsibility.

But all that crumbles, so, so quickly.  A couple things happened this past week. First of all, my dryer timer went out. So the repairman had to order the part, and that meant we couldn't really do laundry for about four days. Two adults and two teenage girls rack up a small mountain of Stank over a weekend. So that was stressful enough, and a little pricey. Add to that our kitchen sink - literally.

The drain was going very slowly and it just wouldn't unclog. So, I had to call a plumber. This is always fun. So the plumber comes, and he starts work on the situation. Apparently there was a buildup issue some thirty years in the making and it would require more than one day's work. Fine, sure. So then, we were without a kitchen sink for four days, over a holiday weekend. SO Many Dishes, you guys. And we even tried to use paper when we could. It didn't matter. Funk and gunk and grease and forks were all over that sink.

These two things being out of the ordinary made me question the rest of my feeble existence. Suddenly, I couldn't find anything that I was doing RIGHT.  The woodwork in the dining room is dirty.  The TV stand is dusty.  The cat horked up on the floor. I have laundry piled on TOP of my dresser instead of hung up in the closet.  There are piles of paper on the desk. There's toothpaste on the bathroom mirror. Grape juice is spilled in the fridge. A stick fell off the tree in the front yard. The old strawberry pots are still on the front porch. I began to see every flaw in every aspect of my house and it was never ending!!!

These things made me start to feel like a failure. Like I was not getting things done, like a grown up would. Like I was a teenager who had been left alone in the house and just... messed it up.

But then some external stuff started to go wrong.  I went to go get money from the ATM and it was broken. I went to the gym, but left my lanyard key at home.  I forgot the garbage guys were going to come a day early before Good Friday.  My car is dirty and Husbando's is even worse (How did he get HAY in a Prius?!). But then, the ultimate betrayal.... a quesadilla gave me a three day stomach ache.

Not you too, cheese.  I can't believe even you would turn on me. We go back, cheese.

So, since I wasn't apparently up to snuff as an adult, I did what any reasonable child would do: threw a temper tantrum. Hold on, I'm not talking like, rolling on the floor in a circle scream-sobbing in the middle of the cookie aisle at the grocery store because someone decided to buy the generic instead of the real Oreos(although it was tempting).  I grabbed my pillow off of my poorly made bed and I smacked the heck out of it. For five straight minutes.  My pillow was a hammer, and the bed was an anvil, and I was making something with metal. I reverted to my two year old self, smacking my defenseless pillow against the quilt my friend Heather made me after the fire and... it woke up the cat.  He looked at me with his best "I am so annoyed with you disturbing me" face and settled back down on the other side of the bed to resume his nap. And you know what? I felt better.

Then, I said to myself, "Just do what you can. That's all you can do."

The guy got the part and fixed the dryer. The other guy came and fixed my sink. I got my Swiffers out and dusted the TV stand. I threw away some of that old paperwork. I wiped up the woodwork in the dining room.  Husbando did the dishes and the laundry. And wouldn't you know, things were clicking back into place. I don't have it so bad. I mean, we have all our bills paid with money left over, AND a savings account. We have food in our freezer.  We have a warm house with comfy couches. Maybe life isn't so bad after all. I was giving myself a great pep talk, encouraging a positive outlook when........

Squish.

The cat horked again. And I stepped in it.

Adultingly yours,

Behka