|No wedding photo for you; instead: The car wash!|
Naturally, my apartment is an explosion of shoes and dirty spandex and kitty litter crumbs and unopened mail. And my front closet is packed so full of boxes of god-knows-what because whenever anyone comes over, my "cleaning" strategy involves throwing all of my piles in a box and hiding it. And the other night Mouse barfed in the bed, and I was too tired to get up and clean it, so I just kept sleeping. And I never actually finished the reading for the book club. And I haven't cleaned my bathtub even once since I moved into my apartment a year ago. And I need a haircut and a chiropractic adjustment and a pedicure. And there are a bunch of vegetables in the refrigerator that are going to go bad unless I cook them immediately. And I got a power meter but it's still in the box because I haven't had time to sit down and figure out how to install it.
And thus we have the adulting paradox: The more you do adult things, the less you feel like an actual adult.