Posted in Blog on September 24, 2013
Not for the first time, I was recently offered a free kitchen set. Table, chairs, the works. And by “the works” I guess I mean the table and chairs because a kitchen set doesn’t include more accoutrements to my knowledge.
I mulled it over. After all, I need a kitchen set, or at least that’s what everyone keeps telling me. They’re all like, “Dude, you need somewhere to sit and eat,” as if a stool in the kitchen or the living room floor aren’t suitable for…a woman of my stature. I swear to God, if any of you can tell me what that means, I’ll owe you one.
Anyway, I said no. Because though it might be free, it’s still a kitchen set, and I’m not ready for that kind of commitment.
I already have so much stuff it makes me anxious. I have a couch. I have a washer and dryer. I have a big ass TV mounted to the wall I was bullied into buying because giant televisions are important in Midwestern culture and my family couldn’t handle my circa 2001 Panasonic with the green blob forever present on the screen.
Being at the point where it would be nearly impossible to pack up and move in 24 hours or less is horrifying. Is this what adulthood is? Filing taxes and owning kitchen sets and driving the speed limit and having all the picture frames in your house filled with pictures of your actual family and friends and not the black and white frame people? I hit that last milestone a week ago.
How many of you feel grown up, and at what point do you reach it? Child rearing? Land ownership? When both of your parents died? When most of the shows you watch are on CBS? To me, the more I grow up, the more it seems like my home and my life become bloated with stuff. Seriously, how many clocks does one girl need? I’m pretty extreme and dangerous, I really like clocks, maps too, but at a certain point, it all becomes a bit redundant.
I’m not sure when I’ll feel like a grown up. I’ve polled some friends, some with kids and property and important jobs and freakish medical conditions, and most of them say they’re just winging it. That’s a bit of a relief, I don’t like to think I’m the only one this far from having my shit together.
Whatever the case, I’m not ready to commit to something as monumental as a kitchen set. Maybe when I have someone to feed other than my cats, I’ll rethink my position. Until then, if you come to my house for dinner, wear a shirt you don’t mind getting shmutzed.