The Day I Called in Adult-ish

It started with an email. Just one. A harmless little subject line that read, “Quick Follow-Up Needed.” But deep in my bones, I knew it wasn’t quick. I knew it was code for “We need this spreadsheet done yesterday and we’ll email you about it every five minutes until you cry.”

So, naturally, I did what any rational adult would do under pressure. I opened my closet, grabbed my dinosaur onesie, and disappeared into a world of couch cushions and childhood denial.

Yes. I built a pillow fort.

Yes. I called in adult-ish.

Let me explain.


---

9:07 AM – The Breaking Point

The day started like most: groggy, undercaffeinated, and aggressively ignoring my to-do list. But something about that email, the passive-aggressive wording, the sheer weight of adulthood… it snapped something in me.

I looked at my stiff office chair. I looked at my cold coffee. I looked at my inbox.
And then I thought, What would eight-year-old me do right now?

The answer was obvious:
Quit the system and build a fortress.


---

9:23 AM – Construction Begins

Within minutes, I was dragging couch cushions into the living room like a woman on a mission. Blankets were flung over chairs. String lights were untangled. My dog watched me like I’d finally lost it.

I added a “Do Not Disturb—Royal Meeting in Progress” sign and posted it outside my new headquarters. I wasn’t just hiding—I was reclaiming joy. And possibly my sanity.


---

10:15 AM – Business Casual Dinosaur

Once inside, I changed into my green dinosaur onesie, which, until then, had been used exclusively for Halloween and bad decisions.

I brought in cookies, juice boxes, and a walkie-talkie I found in a junk drawer. I even printed out a spreadsheet and used it as a table mat for my snacks. Productivity, redefined.


---

11:47 AM – Pillow Politics

At this point, I was feeling a mix of euphoria and mild guilt. Should I respond to that email? Should I check Slack?

I decided to hold a formal meeting with my imaginary team: Teddy, Sir Meowsalot the plush cat, and my dog, Winston, who had now joined the fort.

Minutes from the meeting:

Teddy suggested more cookies.

Sir Meowsalot meowed silently.

Winston demanded belly rubs.


Consensus: We continue the fort life. No outside emails allowed.


---

1:00 PM – Lunch Break with No Rules

I microwaved mac and cheese, added dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets, and declared lunch “Official Fun Food Hour.” No salads. No kale. No guilt.

I ate cross-legged inside the fort while watching old cartoons, the kind with ridiculous sound effects and zero educational value.

It felt like therapy. Cheap, cheesy, childish therapy.


---

2:33 PM – Reflection in Crayon

Inside the fort, I found a notebook and crayons. I started drawing without thinking. A sun with a smiley face. A stick figure version of me with a cape. A mountain labeled “Adulthood” and a little path called “Nap Breaks.”

It hit me: I was tired. Not just sleepy tired, but life tired.

The kind of tired that comes from pretending you’re fine when you’re buried under deadlines, bills, and the weight of always being “on.”

Little me didn’t care about performance reviews. She cared about snacks, cartoons, and how cool treehouses were.

Maybe she had a point.


---

4:00 PM – Re-Emerging

Eventually, I poked my head out of the fort like a groundhog checking for stress levels. The adult world was still there. My inbox had exploded. A calendar notification screamed at me.

But I didn’t feel panicked anymore.

I took a deep breath. I replied to the email. I scheduled a real break for later in the week. I even changed my Slack status to “Productive from a secret location.” No one questioned it.


---

Final Thoughts: Why Everyone Needs a Fort Day

Here’s the thing: adulthood is exhausting. We’re constantly balancing responsibilities, pretending we have it all together, and forgetting that we’re still human underneath the spreadsheets and subscriptions.

Sometimes, the best way to cope isn’t to grind harder—it’s to let your inner child take over for a day. Wear the silly onesie. Eat the cookies. Build the fort.

Because maybe, just maybe, healing doesn’t always look like yoga or journaling. Sometimes it looks like a grown adult in a dinosaur suit, eating mac and cheese inside a fortress of couch cushions while watching cartoons.

And honestly? That might be the most responsible thing I’ve done all week.


---