“This Will Fix Everything”: Things You Can Buy That Will Definitely Fix Everything Forever

This week I went to Target to grab garbage bags. As is Target’s habit, I left with more than garbage bags.

For one, I bought a 2017-2018 daily planner.

I thought to myself, “this will fix everything.” And I chucked it in my cart next to a new scented candle and a pack of pens. I’d later grab a pair of loafers too.

And just to clarify, all these things are not garbage bags.

As someone who is flirting with 30, I’ve realized that there’s no magic moment where “adult” happens. Where you remember to get your oil changed and you don’t forget to load the dishwasher and your desk is a clean desk and no coffee spills on your shirt because coffee is for drinking! Where you don’t worry about fruit flies because you took the garbage out and you like drinking water and you only say cool and normal things because you’re just someone who is both normal and also cool!

You don’t yell, “SAMPLES!” at the grocery store when you see there are cheese samples up for grabs. To my credit, it is cheese.

I know that there won’t be a magic moment where all those pieces suddenly click into place, but some days I have to wonder….can’t one of those things click? Preferably the coffee one? I’m ruining shirts.

I’m also old enough to know that these things don’t matter and everything is fine, but they sure could be finer. And sometimes you need tools that facilitate the fixing of everything. To not make you a type A personality per say, but someone who can fake type A. Someone who cheats on the personality test.

My new planner is going to do the job. It’s going to help me remember errands and bills and tire-rotating and writing and research and probably just general world-saving.

This isn’t like those other things I bought thinking they would fix everything, or at least some things. This planner is going to fix it all.

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Someone get me an intern! November edition


Now looking for an intern to perform the following duties:

  • High five me for the little things. Put on pants that aren’t made for yoga? High five! Answered all your emails? High five! Folded all your laundry and can now use your chair as a chair and not a closet? High five!
  • Heat up my dinner from the big batch of food I made the Sunday before.
  • Heat up a Red Baron pizza when I realize the dinner I made isn’t very good.
  • Research the origin of the Red Baron as a pizza mascot. Get to the bottom of this important issue. You’re doing it for all of us.
  • Figure out why my mouse isn’t working while I keep writing this blog post on my phone.
  • Clean out my refrigerator and also stock my refrigerator.
  • Figure out why my car is making that noise. You know the one.
  • Find something better for me to watch on Netflix.
  • Convince actual busy people that I do need an intern and just leavemealoneaboutit!
  • Make major life decisions. Warning: You’re fired if you decide incorrectly.

Benefits include: stale gummy worms, white rice, me singing you the Newsies soundtrack, and college credit.*

*I’m not totally certain how to grant college credit, but I’m pretty sure it’s like getting knighted. “You have been credited collegially!” I’ll declare as I tap your shoulders with a pool noodle because who an afford a sword these days?

Being an Adult: Mastering the Art of Guessing?

How I feel every Sunday.

I’ve been 27 for just shy of two months. And while you live your life thinking, “Well, being X years old doesn’t feel any different than being X-1 years old,” for me, 27 is the first year that has felt even slightly different. That could be because 27 is the year that follows the end of the development of your brain’s critical thinking centers (26 is the year, for those who don’t know).* It could be because at the age of 27, you are hopefully past your “who am I!?” phase of life. For now at least. It could be because as a woman, my body has most likely stopped producing its own calcium, and my brain is saying, “if you love me, stop drinking that diet coke!” It could also be attributed to the fact I currently have a stable job that allows me to stop, and cook, and think, and read. All things that let a person prioritize the things floating around in her life. Previously I adopted the policy, “I bet my parents sure will make a noise if I am doing something wrong!” Now, while my parents are always willing to help me and advise, the decision making falls to me. And that’s terrifying.

It’s terrifying because I’m not very good at it.

By Tuesday: “I will eat every donut!”

Being an adult: Having a 401K.
Being a bad adult: Not really knowing what to do with a 401K. (Do I watch it? Do I just assume it’s fine? Do I talk about it at parties?)

Being an adult: Buying fish at the meat counter at the grocery store.
Being a bad adult: Not really knowing what fish I need, so picking one based on price and name-familiarity. (Man at meat counter: “What can I get you?”; Me: “TILAPIA! ALL OF THE TILAPIA!”; Man at meat counter: “Wait…what?”; Me: “Maybe just four of the tilapia.”)

Being an adult: Being in charge of car maintenance.
Being a bad adult: Googling, “what is that thing my car is dripping?”

I don’t think men’s degree counts,

Concerned that I’m alone in my flailing, I discussed the act of adulting with actual adults who do adult things, and it seems that the consensus is, “the rest of your life is spent guessing and hoping you guess right.” Sweet.**

I am slowly coming around to the inevitability of this accountability. My actions will come back to me, guys, and I don’t like it. At work, when I send an email that might elicit opinions (heaven forbid!), I hit send and immediately sprint out of the office, avoiding the phone calls that usually come in its wake for at least as long as it takes me to get my seventh cup of coffee. I post on the blog, and immediately shut my laptop for the next hour telling myself, “I am a good writer, right? Right…Maybe.” And, I’m already over a year into the monthly lesson in accountability- paying my students loans. Maybe if I just wrote my loan provider and said, “yes! I get it! My decisions come with consequences!” they’ll forgive the rest? That definitely seems like something they would do.

Yes, 27 feels different, but 26 hasn’t really gone anywhere. 25 tends to have opinions about where I should be, and 24 through around 18 tend to rattle around when I walk at a brisk pace. I’m still trying to get 13 to stop telling me what I’m doing wrong. For being so quiet at the time, she sure has a lot of feelings about what I’m doing now. And I’m desperate for 9 to stop singing show tunes. 27 may feel different, but maybe being a real adult is getting all those other years to sit nicely while you carry on. Instead of remembering all the times you messed up, getting the years to join forces to make educated guesses.

Currently 9 is singing “Mr. Mistoffelees” from Cats. Maybe she can sit out of the decision making.


*If my mother is reading this, see, I listen! If my mother is reading this and I have my facts wrong, I blame Wikipedia! **Do adults say “sweet”? I’m guessing yes.