These Silly Adulting Things...

As stated by the great Chili Davis, "Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional." (Obviously had to look up who said that quote) With just a few days left in my 32nd year, I have come to realize that I genuinely avoid adulting whenever I possibly can. Pretty sure I avoid it more and more each year, perhaps in part because I have come to acknowledge my weird phobias and quirks... and frankly I'm okay with them. I've somehow managed. Successfully? That's debatable. But I've managed enough to exist and kind of get away with daily living.

The following is a list of things that I weirdly don't feel old enough to do. Either I have an odd fear, or it just is way too mature and real-life-y. On the other hand, when I do accomplish said-items, I get a ridiculous sense of adultness and maturity... like internal pride to a level that is way elevated in relation to the size of the task. And sometimes I would really love a high-five. There is nothing on the list that even remotely makes sense, but welcome to my brain and neuroses. Let me begin. 

1. Going to the dry cleaner. This isn't something I particularly avoid now that I know how it works, but this one just give me a strange sense of "having it all together." I, clearly, do not. I'm not sure if this is from movies or tv shows, but a housewife with dry cleaning is just the epitome of maturity... so to pretend with hangers of starched clothing covered in plastic gives me a total Susie Homemaker vibe and like I'm really killing it in the adulting department. 

2. Giving the babysitter instructions. I have three kids, my oldest being nine years old. You'd think I'd be used to it by now. I can't help but think as I'm spouting off bedtimes and no eating in the family room rules... Am I really the parent in this situation? I swear it was yesterday that I was the babysitter, making $5 an hour and saving up to buy a TV with the VCR in it so I could record Dawson's Creek. Who are these three children whom I created, carried in my stomach and am fully responsible for? When did that happen? And how am I supposed to be the professional on them and tell you how to care for them? 

I am not alone. And these memes keep me thinking that way. 

3. Having any type of repair person at my home. First of all, don't rape and kill me, k? Second of all, I feel like I never fully understand what I should be doing while they are there. Do I stand over them awkwardly? Do I pop in and out from the area they are working on? I already typically have to apologize for the mess they have to step over to reach whatever is broken and I kinda don't want to stand there while he moves Barbies from in front of the air conditioning thingy. So I awkwardly sit in the kitchen without my glorious trash TV shows on, (lest he judges me and my love for Bravo and the Kardashians), and mess around on my computer until I hear him walking which is when I leap up and pretend like I'm doing something meaningful other than listening for his every move and browsing the sale at South Moon Under. It turns into a double bill- repair and new sweater. 

4. Calling to make any type of appointment. I think I just like to be totally prepared for what I need to say and know exactly what they are going to ask me. I can't deal with crazy surprises, like "Can you do next Thursday at 2pm." Ugh like I don't know, can I? When I need to actually make these phone calls, I have to amp myself up, get everything out in front of me that I could possibly need, and lock myself in my closet. And I still freak out. Call me a millennial, but for the love of all things holy, give me an appointment request situation online. And also, don't call me to confirm the appointment I just made online. I did it online for a reason. So I didn't have to talk to you!!! 

5. Calling to order food (I guess you can say I am anti-any type of phone call, really). I'm telling you, it is a phobia. The comedian Jim Gaffigan totally nailed it in one of his shows- look it up. But the person on the other line talks so ridiculously fast and I can hear clanging and mania in the background, so inevitably I completely freeze and have absolutely no idea what I was ordering or who I am or where I live. Any online ordering app is my BFF. I actually have an entire folder on my phone dedicated to food apps. I guess this phobia applies to all areas of ordering food with a real human while not seated at a restaurant. Why would I wait in the line at Panera with the masses, just to have someone yell "I can help the next person in line!" and go totally blank on the you-pick-two items I want from the vast menu above my head that is always changing and seems to have morphed from English to Vietnemese before my very eyes? I inevitably screw something up, forget a drink, get a yogurt for the child who wanted soup, you name it. Rapid Pick-up people. All.the.way. If I ever do have no other option but to dial a number and order food, the sense of relief when I hang up is palpable. Then I do a happy dance, unlock myself from the closet with pride and tell the girls that dinner is on its way. 

6. Going to the post office/UPS store. Come on, does anyone ever know what they are doing when they go to the post office? How do you know which box to pick? How much does this weigh? Is this packaged right? What do I do and can someone please help me? I once mailed a wedding gift that was fragile and because I'm an idiot smiling dumbly saying "Um, sure," shipping the thing cost more than the present itself! Like was it packaged in unicorn hair? Some people have a strange gift of being able to mail things and it simply has a little sticker that says $4.77 in the corner. Matt's grandmother is one of those people. So normal and packaged properly... one of my goals in life. I mean, even the stamp machine always seems to be broken when I step foot in the post office. Zappos has actually changed my life a bit in regards to this fear though. Re-taping the same box, printing out my free return label and just dropping it off at the counter while all those suckers stand waiting in line gives me an inflated sense of joy and confidence. 

7. Having cleaning people. Every other Wednesday in the Simmons home are the very best days of the entire month. The lemony smell as I walk in the door is like angels singing to me. Glee fills my heart and I inhale the glorious scent of cleanness. Anyone can walk in the door and I'll breezily be like, "Oh come on in, sorry for the mess. Let me put this one dish away." (If they actually know me, they know my cleaners schedule and will laugh in my face). Who cares that I frantically get my children ready and out the door 30 minutes early to go hang out at my sister's house just so I don't have to face those poor women when they come in and see the trainwreck we have created in merely 14 days? I have said this before... I am just really not important enough to ever be around while someone is cleaning my dirt. And I swear, the girls bathroom looks like they literally paint the sinks with toothpaste all.the.time. Like I don't even know how they do it, it is actually impressive. My life has changed for the better on the "creepily parking down the street from my house so I know when they finally leave" front. Thanks to my snazzy garage door opener app, I am alerted every time it opens or closes so I can know the minute they are done and out the door. (Thank you, my dear friend Ryan at Gaithersburg Garage Door- after 2 new doors and a new motor in less than a year, I think we are some of your very best customers. Don't ask about the multiple doors. Just don't.) 

8. Ordering wine from an extensive menu. Look, I get the 6-pack carrier with an extra 10% off at Safeway like a boss. Most of the time I look for cute bottles, fun names, or ones that are typically more expensive but have a great sale price. I mean, paying $25 is really pushing it for me. It goes down just as fast as the $12.99 bottle. I'm not a snob. Or as I like to say, "I don't discriminate." Yes there are gross wines obviously, but I am pretty good at staying in my lane and picking up some good ones that I like and have no problem drinking. So when I'm put in a situation with a massive book of wines, I usually hand it right over to Matt (partially so I don't feel bad about how much the bottle costs). Recently we went with my brother and sister-in-law to RPM Italian in DC. It is Giuliana and Bill Rancic's place (E! News, my red carpet girl- c'mon) and both Cheryl and I were totally geeking out over it. When the sommelier came over to ask, Matt was already handling one phobia for me (he was in the lobby ordering pizza for the girls at home, which I wasn't doing because my Papa John's App was not loading- what horror!). So I was like errrrrr I'll do a Sauvignon Blanc I guess? She sensed the question mark at the end of that request, so she went into a whole spiel about this other one that I need to open my horizons to and it was just so beyond lovely and she would bring me a taste. I never say no to a free taste, especially when it is $15 a glass (and that would be the proper number of ounces, aka my glass had two drops in it. Ugh. I have gotten way used to the country club pour). 

It was the Vernaccia di San Gimignano (Say that five times fast. Or once, after a bottle of it), I did the little pretend swirl/sniff thing, oohed over it, and out came a bottle of it for a schmillion dollars. 

I should probably stop here before you think I'm certifiably insane. If you don't now, I'm sure I will affirm your suspicions in the near future. Somehow, despite these strong feelings regarding so many things in my adult life, I manage to maintain a relatively normal existence. I have my coping mechanisms (in the form of apps, preferably). Maybe I'll start calling people in my 40's. #goals 

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