Thursday, June 13, 2013

Really Good at Life

I think when I was in college and lived alone, it never felt daunting or frustrating because I was young and dumb and acting on instinct. It's surprising how little you actually screw up when you act on instinct. (This is the same theory with which I credit my fairly young parents with not damaging either of us too horribly. They didn't have time to read Spock and shit, they just acted and Voila! I'm sure also aided by a ton of family nearby.)

Because HOLY CRAP am I bad at it now.

I thought it would be great. And, truthfully, a lot of it is. Definitely team no pants now. Definitely don't feel obligated to, like, bother getting dressed on a weekend out of some sense of propriety. Feel no qualms about dropping my shorts as I take them off wherever as I crawl into bed, whether that's the floor next to the bed or the living room. Not that I've turned into some frat boy. I'm actually neater than I think I've ever been because this is MY place and I'm responsible for it and I don't want to catch disgusting diseases.

But the rest of it? Mother of god.

First of all, I'm supplying a whole apartment. For the first time since college. There are so many decisions to be made. I'm no coupon clipping queen, but I like to get a good deal. Back when I needed stuff for that college apartment, the internet wasn't quite the thing it is now (shut up, I know I'm old), so you went to Walmart and got whatever wasn't awful but wasn't expensive and knew it'd hold out 'til you abandoned all your crap to the next college kid. Now that I'm adult with a refined sense of taste (HAHAHAHA), I want something that will actually stand up a bit and speak to my aesthetic sense. And not cost me a fortune because man am I still all kinds of really broke.

With the advent of the internet, that decision for something as simple as measuring cups is made infinitely more difficult. 11,500 results under google shopping RIGHT NOW. 11,500! Let alone if you're at a store. Is Target REALLY the best deal? Should I get them somewhere else? Adult me is thinking far too fucking hard about measuring cups (and a million other things) that college me wouldn't have given a second thought to. I have to remind myself to go back to that gut instinct when I'm standing at a wall of gadgets in a store, saying, "There are no wrong choices. This is not life and death." It's hard when there is no one there to sort of talk these things out with. I end up making no decisions and leaving frustrated, exhausted, and empty handed.

Which led me to not having a garbage can for two weeks. Ironically enough, the thing you LITERALLY put garbage in runs at the least $20. $20! For the thing you LITERALLY put garbage in! Not even accounting for that any decent one costs more than that. You want fancy stainless steel germ resistant? Thin profile? Side by side for recycling? Can be almost a $100! Did I mention you LITERALLY put garbage in it?! LITERALLY! I can't get over this. I, finally, after wandering aimlessly and directionless and confused around an unfamiliar Target after work this past Tuesday, figured out where their garbage cans were and chose one. "There are no wrong choices. This is not a life or death decision. It's just a fucking garbage can."

I was prompted to buy myself the garbage can because on Monday of my second week of work I had to go home sick. I, for the first time in my life (aside from those "bugs" we all get every now and then, where we feel not quite right), had given myself food poisoning. "I'm independent! I'm living on my own! I'm good at life!...I...made myself sick." Full on white knuckling it through the first hour of work trying not to be ill when I finally called uncle and asked the most senior person around if I could leave. The longest five minute drive home of my life to vomit up everything in my stomach and then 24 hours of fever/chills/fever wherein I wanted to die and wondered how the hell I managed to keep myself alive this long. Let alone earn an advanced degree because I mean really!

I blame the steak I cooked on Sunday night. Someone, because living alone, hadn't paid any attention to how long she'd had it in her house, and no one to check her on the "maybe that should be tossed?" and cooked it up and 12 hours later was feeling the wrath of her body fight with bacteria. (I obviously also blame the not keeping my garbage more contained and away from EVERYTHING ELSE...hence the garbage can purchase.) GOOD TIMES! It's Thursday and I'm still not really about food. Which is good because I'm living in a town that doesn't have a grocery store with an olive bar. (This is a hardship! I wanted to make a greek salad! (Well, before I got sick I did.) Where does one get olives for said greek salad when there are no olive bars? (I am the worst kind of transplant. But I'm slowly adjusting. Lots of warm weather makes me happy.)) But hey! Best accidental diet ever! Triscuits and cheerios for us all! Next week on the cover of the national tabloid!

I do have furniture. My place is mostly organized. My complex is great, there's a pool, I don't have to wear a hoodie at all ever. The people at work are warming up to me and now I need to lock my cell phone in the drawer during working hours and not tweet so I don't lose my first ever real lawyering job as my student loan people track me down at work and ask me for payment. I'm not hopeless, per se. But holy crap I think I was better at this as a clueless 21 year old.

Then again, maybe living alone in college was horribly frustrating and daunting and I'm all just rose colored glassed about the past...

Regardless, I'd like to stop sucking so horribly at it now, thanks. At least do so with far less vomiting.

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