Adulting for a Week

Let me be clear: I didn’t choose the adult life. The adult life chose me—and it came armed with unpaid bills, suspicious vegetables in the fridge, and a growing pile of laundry that may or may not be sentient.

It all started last Monday when I decided I was going to get my life together. Not just "sort of" together, like paying one bill and rewarding myself with three hours of Netflix. No, I was going full adult. I made a list, I downloaded a budgeting app, and I even bought a planner. A real one. With tabs.

Day 1: Confidence is a Lie

I woke up early, made a to-do list that could rival a NASA launch schedule, and drank water before coffee. Let me repeat that: before coffee. I was unstoppable. I even called the bank voluntarily—without crying. Things were going well until I decided to “meal prep” like I saw in those TikToks.

Turns out, cutting vegetables for five straight meals is less “aesthetic” and more “why do my fingers smell like onions for eternity?” Also, quinoa is not rice. It’s bird food wearing a disguise.

Day 2: Laundry Wars and Plant Guilt

Laundry was next. I separated colors, followed label instructions, and even folded the clothes right after drying. I felt like a domestic wizard… until I realized I’d washed my AirPods. They're clean now, but they only speak in static and betrayal.

Later, I watered my plants with the smug pride of a suburban gardening champion. Except I may have overcompensated for weeks of neglect, because by evening, two of them were drooping like disappointed parents. One looked like it was writing its will.

Day 3: My Fridge Hates Me

By Day 3, the adulting high wore off. I opened my fridge to eat my prepped meals, only to find that everything I cooked tasted like regret and boiled sadness. I stared into the fridge for 10 minutes, hoping a snack would magically appear. Instead, my own reflection judged me.

I ordered pizza.

Day 4: The Budget Breakdown

Remember that budgeting app? It sent me a push notification titled “Unusual Spending Activity.” I clicked on it, expecting fraud. Nope—it was just me, buying four lattes and a novelty mug that says “Hot Mess Express.” The app suggested I “re-evaluate my financial priorities.” Rude, but accurate.

Day 5: Social Burnout

I scheduled a dentist appointment, paid my phone bill, and even replied to emails like a real grown-up. But then I made the mistake of attending a networking event online. Within five minutes, I forgot how to speak in complete sentences and introduced myself as “a creative human who does... things.” Professionalism at its peak.

Day 6: The Spiral Begins

By Saturday, I was unraveling. My planner was judging me with its untouched pages. I attempted to meditate but fell asleep. I vacuumed half the living room before getting distracted by a sock that looked suspiciously like my missing sock’s twin. I started questioning the meaning of socks, time, and adulthood itself.

Day 7: Acceptance (and Takeout)

On Sunday, I gave up. I ordered Chinese food, wore the same hoodie for the third day in a row, and binge-watched a show I donot even like. My plants seemed relieved that I’d stopped bothering them. The laundry pile had returned. I made peace with the fact that adulthood isn’t a checklist—it’s chaos with Wi-Fi.

Final Thoughts: Send Help (and Snacks)

So, yes. I tried to adult for a week. I failed gloriously. But hey, I paid a bill, kept a plant half alive, and only cried once over spilled quinoa.

That counts as growth, right?

Next week’s goal: survive. With snacks.