Adulting

I’ve spent a lot of time being an adult these past few weeks. I hate it.

Adulting tasks that make me cringe:

1. Driving. I am a passenger on the road of life. I have a license and I drive well. I just hate doing it.

2. Doctor’s appointments. I love my doctor, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t like yearly exams. They suck.

3. Worrying. Several family friends are going through cancer treatments or major surgery right now, and that’s agonizing.

4. Car shopping. Lemur’s one demand is a manual transmission, and he won’t consider a Volkswagen. Americans don’t drive manual transmissions any more, baby.

5. Watching my dog fade away. He’s not eating in this heat, and he’s losing weight. It’s painful to watch.

I’m old enough now that having a child would risk some sort of birth defect. To me, the one thing worse than carrying a child would be watching that child die a horrible death. Pet ownership: not so different from my second-worst nightmare.

I would be a horrible parent. I love my boys, but I can pack them up and put them away when I need to work. I don’t have to worry about leaving them in a hot car. If my house burns down, they’re safe in the cloud. And if Lemur and I want smexy-time, we don’t have to worry about voyeurs. And if I decide that one of the boys must die, I won’t go to jail. (Everyone loves a plot twist, even if it hurts a little.)

I’ve had just about as much adulting as I can stand. It’s time for some fun.