Hypothetically Speaking . . .

. . . . . . . . Because Humor Matters

Adulting Sucks!!!

Written By: Michael Rochelle - May• 28•18

I don’t want to grow up!

A wise person on Pinterest once wrote, “Adulthood is like looking both ways before you cross the street and then getting hit by an airplane.” Because that’s just my luck, I can barely go three minutes without looking up into the sky to see what obstacles South West or United may be hurling my way. I’ve already been informed that my job will not tolerate any more lateness from me, so being hit by a plane will not be considered an acceptable excuse for my being tardy—even if I do have a doctor’s note and a leg dragging behind me. It’s good to know these sort of things in advance.

I’ve been an adult since at least 1922. That noted, I have the authority to say that adulting needs to be voted off the island. It’s severely overrated. I miss the days when I didn’t have to worry about paying bills or watching what I eat. Now that I’m aging faster than wine and cheese, if I have just two Doritos, my blood pressure spikes and my girdle buttons pop faster than a bottle of champagne on New Year’s Eve. I apologize to the people who have lost an eye or an elbow in any of those girdle incidents.

Back in the day, before I was using phrases like “back in the day,” I could randomly spend the night over a friend’s house. The bed, the couch, or the floor would all have been suitable places for me to rest my head. Now, I have to plan overnight stays well in advance and ask important questions like, “Do you have a Sealy Postuerpedic or a Sleep Number bed available? I require a firmness setting of at least 48 or else my back locks up and stiffens worse than a politician being asked to answer a question honestly.”

In addition to the physical difficulties that come along with adulthood, you’re also expected to make “responsible” decisions and to be “mature.” It’s gotten so bad that, before I buy a Snickers bar, I have to decide whether the purchase is a better choice than investing the dollar into my 401k. After holding up the grocery line while I debate this in my head, the Snickers usually wins. I justify this by believing that if I don’t eat now, I won’t live long enough to utilize my 401k. Of course, none of this matters if I get hit by a plane.

Another reason I choose the Snickers is because I have yet to see any financial gains from the $3.50 I invested in my 401k 10 years ago. Once I put the money in, you couldn’t tell me I wasn’t a superstar. The world was mine! However, I just checked my balance and it’s still $3.50. So much for investing in my future!!! At this rate, when I’m old enough to retire, I’ll be able to buy a Sausage McMuffin and a senior citizen coffee . . . maybe . . . depending on inflation.

Seriously, when I do my budget once a year, I’m forced to make life decisions around whether I should pay the rent or the cable bill. Granted, if you don’t have a roof over your head, you probably don’t need cable as much, but that’s beside the point. I’ve had many conversations with my landlord about the cultural importance of Game of Thrones and Keeping Up with the Kardashians, but despite my many protests, he usually demands that I pay the rent on time. It figures. My landlord is always trying to make a buck regardless of how much it inconveniences me. Some people are so self-centered.

I know what you’re thinking, it just doesn’t make sense to have cable or WiFi if you’re homeless. Well, as long as I pay for the WiFi, maybe I’ll find that it’s enjoyable to sit outside and watch HBO or Showtime on my tablet underneath a starlit sky. I guess I’d have to find a place to plug in the router, but that’s neither here nor there. Like the good book says, “Where there’s a will, there’s an electrical outlet.” I’ll figure it out.

As a child, I never had to worry about how food was being put on the table. I assumed my mother would go out under the cover of night like other moms and use her senses to hunt down the evening’s meal. On at least two occasions, I remember looking out the window and seeing her hiding behind a dumpster waiting to pounce on unsuspecting prey. From what I remember, she was really good at catching chicken and hot dogs. Sometimes she would even catch rice or a neighbor. Sometimes she would just catch peas. I have no idea how she caught the Corn Flakes.

Anyway, back then I never had to be concerned about the light bill. As a matter of fact, several of my worst childhood floggings took place because I’d left a light on. My mother would act like my leaving a light on was me intentionally breaking one of the Ten Commandments. Little does she know that I was leaving the light on because I was scared of the dark, and so were all the ghost that lived in our apartment with us. I was just trying to be helpful. Casper wasn’t always so friendly.

Ironically, whenever my mom comes to visit, I have to run after her like she’s a toddler and cut the lights off behind her. Apparently, she only cares about the cost of electricity when she is the one paying for it. If she only knew that I have to dust off my stripper boots every month to pay for the cable and utilities, she’d probably think again about leaving the lights on. Besides, I’m pretty sure I’ve broken several of the actual Commandments during my night shift as Caramel Macchiato Thunder. Let’s keep that between us, though.

When you’re a kid, all you have to worry about is making it to school in a matching outfit and turning in your homework on time. On special days, you may even have taken a shower, brushed your hair, and slapped on some deodorant. As an adult, if I’m late on a work assignment, words like “write up” and “termination” get thrown around with reckless abandon. Last week I was fired at least three times by noon on Monday. I was never fired when I was a kid.

Growing up, I remember periodically asking my mom for 30-minute extensions to my bedtime. For a while, I think I was the only teenager that had to be in bed by 7:30. Now, as an adult, going to bed at 7:30 sounds like a blessing. At around 6 PM, my body starts to shut down, and if I don’t make it to my bed, I will end up falling asleep wherever I am. One evening this happened while I was riding the Metro. When I woke up the next morning, they charged me a $300 fare for riding from station to station all night.

Lastly, adulting sucks because the expectations are just too high. People expect me to know adult things like how to recycle. I’ve Googled it and phoned a friend, but I still don’t get it. Apparently, I’m supposed to be setting an example for today’s youth. First of all, no one should be looking up to me for anything. I can barely choose clean underwear in the morning. No one should be following my lead, which is why I don’t have children. I assessed that situation years ago and decided it was best to be both spayed and neutered just to be safe. I consider it me doing my part for humanity. If you think things are bad in the world now, imagine if there were little Michaels and Michaelinas running around. Worse yet, imagine me lurking behind a dumpster waiting for some unsuspecting stranger to come by so I could put food on the table. Yuck.

Michael Rochelle
Access my full blog: http://www.justmichael.net/blog
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/michael.rochelle1
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Twitter: @mikeyllo

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