A great question

[cjsmith]

stolen from evilegg

What makes you feel really adult?

In the "I can't believe I'm getting away with this" category, my first responses were:

• Checking into a hotel with someone to whom I am not legally wed.
• Changing the landscaping around my house. It's not a rental -- I can pull all that ivy and put nice flowers or lawn in if I want to.
• Heck, saying the words "my house". (Until I ran out of money and chose to sell, the words "my airplane" were like that too. I mean really! I was allowed to purchase an airplane.)

Then there's the "Yes I do have responsibilities" category. Paying bills is like this. Taking sick kitties to the vet -- and, once, having to make that heartwrenching decision to euthanize -- definitely reminds me of my responsibilities. Entering into business contracts with random people hundreds of miles away is like this (oddly enough, my day job doesn't feel like this).

The "I have learned something" category defies description sometimes, but it's the one that brings the most frequent reminders that I'm an adult. I'll read something someone else wrote, or see someone do what I would have done ten years ago, and I will realize that I am definitely not twenty-five any more (much less seventeen). Usually I am very grateful.

Comments

[dawnd.livejournal.com]

There is nothing like registering your own child for Kindergarten to make you feel adult. I mean, there you are, walking down the hallways of the Elementary school, with all the projects on the walls, and the signs pointing the way to the bathrooms, and the drinking fountains at the height of your knees (and my knees are pretty darn low to the ground, folks!). It definitely makes one a bit dizzy. Probably is much worse if you are registering your child for the *same* school you attended as a child.

I think the first time I started to feel "old" though was the time shortly after dreamervictoria came to live with us and I found myself using the phrase "when I was your age...". Gack. I can't say that without devolving into a quavery old-lady voice.