I did a myriad of things this weekend that I think sort of constitutes adulthood. Maybe.
1. I filled out paper to rent my very first post-graduation Big Girl Apartment in a Major City that is Not In My Homestate.
Not really adult: One of the deciding factors was that my building is the one closest to the laundry, so I only have to drag my stuff the shortest distance possible. Also I’m like five minutes from a Nordstrom. Love Nordstrom.
2. Bought Actual Kitchen Necessities for my Big Girl Kitchen where I will do Real Cooking that doesn’t involve prepackaged boxes. Also fell madly, irreversibly in love with Ikea. (I honestly don’t know how I’ve gone 22 and a half years of existence without setting food in this magical land of home goods but I never want to go back to that dark time.)
Not really adult: I bought things mainly based on how cute the colors were and where they would fit into my decorating theme of French-ish Hippie Meets Lots of DIY Crafting. Also complained about being too tall/old to go play in their magic forest kids thing. Also the highlight of highlights was the chocolate bar I bought. The three chocolate bars I bought.
3. A pre-ordered copy of John Green’s The Fault in Our Stars, which comes out today and is probably one of those books that will just make me want to give up because no other books have the right to even try to follow it, is sitting at my favorite indie book store with my name on it. As we were in another city and driving home, I couldn’t go pick it up and I DIDN’T hint/ask/borderline demand that my mother drive an extra half hour each downtown and back so I could get. This is the height of maturity, if you ask me.
Not really adult: I did, however, whine a little when the bookstore called me to let me know it was in. Actually, I whined a lot.
I’m trying, y’all. Baby steps.
(But seriously, I know I haven’t read TFIOS yet, but I probably highly recommend it. John Green is the epitome of what contemporary American literature should look like. That’s your PSA for the day.)