I think the thing I hate the most about being a grown-up is having to change my own sheets. Seriously, I had an extremely long day today and all I wanted to do when I got home today was crawl into my cosy bed and get on my computer (well, really I wanted to sleep, but I knew I was going to be blogging first). But I had stripped my sheets when I left the house this morning so an unmade (nothing unusual there) AND completely bare mattress (with all of my covers/pillows/clean sheets in a wad) greeted me when I got up to my room. When I still lived here (at my parent's house) as their child before college (and even some in college) I could convince my darling, loving father to "help" me remake my bed with new sheets. By help, I really mean, Dad did all the manual labor and I vigorously put my pillow cases on my two pillows. He really loves me.
When I decided it was finally time for me to act like an adult since I had hit that big 2-1 marker in life, I tried changing my sheets in the summer house I was renting. I ended up breaking the bed. Technically, it was already broken (and it wasn't mine, not that it makes it less important) but that definitely deterred my passion for living like a true adult. I tried again when I moved into the Kappa house my senior year to be vigilant on changing my sheets, but I had a lofted bed. It was extremely beyond difficult and even though I made my bed every day. I didn't change my sheets like I should have. Now that I'm living at home, it's hard not to revert back to the good old days when my dad changed my sheets for me (especially when it's been a long day and I find out that even though my sheets have been washed and dryer all day, they are still damp). I'm trying my best to remain an adult and do things for myself. But I'm definitely thinking all that time I wasted wishing to be older in my younger days really should have been spent on other things, like reading, knitting, or learning a foreign language. I'm pretty sure I would be proficient in Italian and Spanish if only I had tried earlier in life (probably not).
My bed.
Not as it first greeted me, but as it was right before I put the sheets on it.
Title: "Everybody Talks" by Neon Trees
Labels: Adult Life, Life, Music, Musings
