Playing Grown Up

Ok, I have come to the final realization that playing "grown up" sucks. When I was little, all I wanted was to work. I was dying to take the place of my mom's secretary Paula, answering phones, booking appointments and offering financial organization to the world and its dental files.

Fast forward to today. When you play house, you do the fun stuff, you cook for the kids, but you never have to clean the dishes. And you don't deal with a broken garbage disposal. Mind you, being an adult with a juvenile mentality, I should note that I've functioned sans disposal for about 2 months now. No joke. It stopped whirring one day and I mourned it for about 24 hours and forgot about it.

As a kid, you play house with whoever's around. If need be, you convert an elementary school classmate into Mike Brady. Hell, I did. As an adult, the quest to find someone to put into Mike Brady's shoes becomes more difficult. And you find out Mike Brady was a homosexual, which just confuses you that little bit more.

Today I'm faced with finding a partner (if not for love then for the tax deduction, because I was nearly brought to tears when I filed my taxes this year), making enough money to keep a roof over my head, perhaps even fixing the appliances therein. And yesterday a friend mentioned that perhaps I should create a savings account for "fun" or travel. What happened to mom and dad just springing a Hawaii trip on us? Nowadays I consider it a getaway if I drive as far as La Jolla. And as a kid you prized your possessions and knew where they were at all times. This weekend, concerned with worldly things like paying a month's worth of bills (ok, and maybe watching the Hulk Hogan reality show at the gym) I lost my iPod. Again. And I'm too tired to care. I'm not sure which is sadder.

What happened when the biggest task in your day was a sheet of foreign verb conjugation or finding a ride to the mall to get that new cassette you were dying for? Youth is so wasted on the young. I'm just gonna pray that my youthful looks help me stretch it out a bit more. Let the regression begin.