Adulting is hard.
They expect you to get up every morning, feed yourself (and sometimes other people!), and skip nap time.
No toys allowed before 9 p.m.
Your socks have to match. HAVE TO.
And don't even get me starting on filling out forms. Forms, people!
(Maybe it's not fair to hate on "they," but it's my blog and I will hate if I want to.)
Adulting should come with instructions.
Come to think about it (how Southern is THAT phrase?), my adult life sort of does come with instructions.
It's my planner. I haven't really named her. I think of her as Flourish, picturing the end of a cool handwritten note. (That's my actual handwriting. It's the only way that I adult well.)
(Never Flo. Never ever ever. Flo is a older waitress with an attitude and an apron or an unwelcome visitor. Never Flo.)
As instructions come in, I write them down.
"Buy some milk."
"Order a book."
"Show up at 3 p.m. with a properly wrapped gift in hand."
"Call the school tomorrow."
Then, I try to follow them.
It's not a perfect system, but I pretty much am able to stumble through what they expect me to accomplish.
Unless I see something shiny. Or smell something yummy. Then I'm all "MINE! MINE! MINE!"
But nobody's perfect!
Feel free to steal and share my meme! Just please keep the source (www.GiftieEtcetera.com) with it.