I have now been informed by a handful of people who are far away from me that this is the only way anyone can count on me to share things, and I have been sucking at it. Part of me is tempted to be dismissive and say that I haven’t been blogging due to a lack of things to say; the claim is essentially that being an adult is super boring. That’s not really true, though. Or maybe it is and I’ve fallen so far down the rabbit whole of pseudo-personhood that I’ve lost the ability to see just how uninteresting this shit really is.

I packed up my car and moved across the country for a part-time job that doesn’t pay all that well because the work sounded great, my boss is utterly amazing, and I was ready for a change. Due to my fortunes in the “having awesome friends” department, I managed to get a second job not long after I got here in order to be able to pay rent and stuff.

Still, my first two weeks were spent in a state of near-constant panic over how I would be able to afford this ridiculous, half baked life choice. I sleep on an air mattress in my best friend’s living room. I am grateful for her hospitality, though I probably couldn’t manage it if it were anyone else — I have forgotten what privacy looks like, but I remember it being lovely.

The good news for both of us is that my struggles with not having my own space means I’m taking the apartment hunt extra seriously. The bad news is that even with my two jobs, my options aren’t exactly wide open. As it turns out, all those people who gave me money to go to expensive schools actually want their money back! Go figure.

Aside from a period of about two weeks where the weather was nice enough for me to sleep in my actual bed in Missouri, I have been sleeping on futons or floor-mattresses for over a year now. There have been multiple times this year where I was arguably homeless. Homeless in a totally privileged I-have-tons-of-friends-and-other-people-to-crash-with sort of way, but still without a residence that was mine in any real way. I can do this whole unstable thing, and I’m pretty good at it. I can add “awesome transient” to my list of special skills. Hooray!

The surprise has been realizing that I’m ready to take a break from that. All the trappings of adulthood that I have long regarded with a certain trepidation suddenly look pretty good to me. It’s terrifying because it is not terrifying. Let’s pretend that makes sense.

COMMITMENT! A LEASE! As concepts, they still wig me out a little. (A lot.) Yes, I have had apartments and leases before, but in all cases, I knew that I would be gone as soon as that contract expired. I have never looked for a place with any thoughts on the possibility of renewing my lease when it ended. That would probably have caused past!me to disintegrate into a puddle of feelings and terror.

But, you guys, I have a job where I was ordered business cards! Do you have any idea how legit I feel? BUSINESS CARDS! I’ve made it in the world.

I still have this overwhelming feeling that I’m not going to be any good at this whole “functioning adult” gig. These are the things that cause me extreme anxiety. In spite of the occasional panic attack, I’m excited; it’s a fun new project. I got to bring all of my kitchen stuff out of storage and I was giddy about unpacking my baking supplies. Things like apartments with washer and dryer in-unit excite me about as much as buying new glitter nail polish. I give myself a big self-congratulatory high five and pat on the back each time I have one of these glorious, “HECK YEAH, I’M BEING A TOTALLY VALID GROWN-UP!” moments.

So, for the handful of people that care: cleaning and business cards are my life’s grand accomplishments these days, so, yeah, maybe adulthood is kind of boring. BUT GUYS, I’M TOTALLY WINNING ADULTHOOD. I’M TOTALLY EARNING A PARTICIPATION RIBBON IN ADULTHOOD. Or, at least I will be as soon I start sleeping in a bed that is not inflatable.