I'm 29 now. Only a few months away from the big 30. I keep thinking how much older 30 seems on everyone else. I was 7 when my mom turned 30, yet here I am, unmarried and childless at almost that same age. Am I ready to be 30? Can I be responsible enough to fit in with the grown-ups in their 30's? I most certainly do not feel like a grown-up; I still rent my house for crying out loud. I work in a non-profit job, and I most certainly don't have enough money saved up to survive for over a month. Why is being 30 so different now than it was 20 years ago? My mom and dad both had it together at 30. They were adults; they had a family; they really had it going on. Me? At the age of 29 on a lazy Sunday morning, I'm in yesterday's leggings and a sports bra just chilling on my couch because that's where I happened to fall asleep last night (in my defense, my sheets on my bed are dirty, and it was either wash them or sleep somewhere else, so I slept somewhere else).
Today, it's raining outside. The bleak, cold rain makes my messy front porch and brown garden look even more sad than it usually does. I took the dog out this morning, expecting the same bright sunshine we had yesterday, and was greeted with a cold, wet drop on my forehead. It instantly made me want to run and hide under my fluffy pink comforter. So, I bribed the dog to come back in and did so, on my couch, of course, which is where you will find me now. On my couch under my big, cozy comforter, avoiding the fact that my house is a wreck, and I'm the one that needs to clean it.
That's the thing about being 29; you may not feel responsible enough to keep a house clean, but life doesn't care how you're feeling. It's your job, your duty in life, your adult right to clean. 20 years ago, the dust magically disappeared and my clothes were folded and put away by elves who enjoyed that kind of stuff, but those elves didn't follow me into my own home. I can't afford a maid, though it would be nice, and my butler took the day off (my imaginary butler, that is), so it looks like the job falls on me today. Today is the day that I get to switch out all of my winter clothes and be reminded of how much weight I've gained over the past year, even though I've been working out harder than ever before (because that's what happens when you're 29). Today, I get to look at my wardrobe in disgust and be reminded of how poor I actually am; I get to pay my power bill instead of going and buying new clothes like I want to do.
I don't want to clean today, or any day. I want to lay on my couch, blog a little bit, browse Facebook, maybe play some Candy Crush and allow Pinterest to tell me how my hair and nails should look. But I'm an adult, I'm 29 now, and I have to take care of myself. I should feel blessed that I have the capability and skill to care for myself, that I can support myself (and a very expensive dog), but right now I'm mad at the adult me. The adult me has set a standard that I just don't feel like living up to today, but I know if I don't clean today, it won't get done this week or probably next weekend. Adult Me sucks, but I guess there's really no turning back now. I'm almost 30.
