Thursday, January 14, 2010

Adult Enforcement Unit

This morning I stood in my pantry and pondered what to have for lunch. This is a decision I make every morning before I leave for work. Sometimes there is nothing there and I finally decide to get a burrito from Taco Mayo. This morning I was responsible. I finally decided cereal was yummy, and much cheaper and healthier than eating out. My dilemma was in which type of cereal to choose. I had a bag of generic rice krispies left from last time I made rice krispie treats and I had a brand new, fresh, unopened box of Fruity Pebbles

Rice krispies are boring, but reliable. They are also economical, after all, they are generic and will go to waste if I don’t eat them soon. However Fruity Pebbles are fun and yummy, even if they are candy covered in milk. I love them so much. But I took the responsible route. Rice krispies were the winner. I felt very much like an adult. Sometimes I have moments where I feel like a grown up. These moments happen when I am paying bills or driving to work even though I would rather sleep in. Today it happened to be when I was choosing to eat rice krispies.

Other times I feel like somebody is going to come get me. Like there is some kind of club (more likely called an organization when you’re an adult), that I am not aware of. One where they have an initiation process before conducting a ceremony where they present you with your official adult card. Since I haven’t been through this process it is obvious that I am only pretending to be an adult. Sometimes I enjoy the privileges of being an adult when I am going out for ice cream late at night, or choosing to let the dirty dishes sit on the counter because I can’t be punished for letting them get crusty. It is these times that I worry that there is an official adult enforcement unit that is going to come ask to see my adult card and I won’t be able to provide one. I will have to ride in the back of their official car, and they will drive up to my parents’ house with their lights flashing and drag me to the porch by my elbow. They will give my parents a stern warning not to let me escape again.

Now, don’t think that my parents’ house is a bad place. It is much nicer than mine. There is a garage door opener, there are always good snacks, and there are no crusty dishes on the counter. My parents’ house is a very nice place and I was very lucky to get to live there when I was younger. But in the past few years I have very much grown accustomed to living on my own, where the things around me are mine, and my house is my own style. It is also fun to find new ways of doing things. The lessons you learn when the old way of doing things is better is often fun too.

Then again, when you’re choosing to have cereal for lunch, it might not matter what kind you choose. Any kind might doom you to be sent back to your parents’ house for reevaluation. Salad is a more “adult” choice. And most people who know me, know that I will NOT be choosing salad for a meal any time soon. Mom, you might want to watch the door tonight, the adult enforcement unit might be coming with me in their backseat!