When my dad died. I was 46. My mom had died 7 weeks before. I realized I had no one to turn to anymore and I was at the top of the trouble ladder. I wasn’t stoked about it. I’m still not.
Sorry for your loss.
As a parent and homeowner I definitely feel like an adult now. But I do still reach out to my parents for help and support from time to time. I’m really going to miss them when they’re gone, but being “at the top of the trouble ladder” isn’t something I had considered.
I kinda know the feeling. My dad died in '07 when I was 34, my mother in '20 and her last brother died this year. My sisters and I are now the oldest generation (together with nices and nephews on that side) My yongest sister just turned 42.
I still refuse to admit I’m adult, just old. (At least that’s what my body tells me from time to time, “you’re not 20 anymore, I’m not putting up with those shenanigans”)
Sorry for your loss
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I pulled down his pants, bent him over my knee, and spanked him with it until he put the power rangers back on.
nice
I remember the exact moment. I had just got a Home Depot gift card from my in-laws and my first thought was, “I’m going to buy a really nice hose”
Cashing in pennies so I could get enough gas to get to work and pick up my check… To pay for more gas
Reminds me of when I moved cities and was having a rough go of it. I borrowed 20 bucks for gas and my gas light was still on. This was only a few weeks after I had ran out of gas on my way to an interview to deliver pizza.
Who orders pizza during an interview?
Interview to be a delivery driver.
Ah, right
Clever girl
That’s how I spent my teenage years. I wasn’t much of an adult yet.
I’m old so things were a bit different…
When I was growing up, adults were Mister and Misses. When Mr. Jones became Jack and Mrs. Smith became Barbara it was an indication that I was an adult.
It’s funny you mention this. It was really weird the first time one of my coworkers referred to me as “Miss” plus my first name. In the southeast US, this is a common way to show respect to an older woman that you consider a friend too.
Damn. You hit the nail on the head with that one. I don’t remember when I started referring to adults by their first names, but it was such an odd feeling. Now I call everyone from the 89 year old neighbor to the 9 year old across the street by their first name, and they’re okay with it, gack!
I’m being pedantic, but *missus
I’m a nurse in my late 40s, and I still have to open conversations with my elderly patients “Mister Smith” “Mizz Smith” when I first meet them. I can’t help myself; it’s how I was raised haha
Wanting socks for christmas.
I was that kid though. Not exclusively socks, but I have sensitive feet and learned early on that there are few pleasures as good as the feel of a nice new pair of socks against my footsies.
Well, not all of us were born so wise.
We will always cherish our memories of you, Dumbledore.
Probably the first time I realized someone didn’t like me and I honestly didn’t care. I hadn’t done anything to them that I know of. I guess I just wasn’t their cup of tea. And you know what? I was ok with that because I like me and that’s not something that I’ve always been able to say.
Well I like that about you. Good for you.
When I was excited about buying some mundane thing for my house, like a toaster oven or chair.
When I realized that adults are just kids in an older outer packaging. Things barely change, they just start involving money and hearth, that’s pretty much it.
Oh man, getting into a workplace and finding out folks are just as gossipy or petty about inconsequential bullshit as high schoolers are (Like that one tweet about a manager being upset that the CC’s on a e-mail weren’t in seniority order.) was an eye opener for sure.
The first time was when I accidentally cut myself with a new knife while trying to chop a cabbage. Thankfully due to quick reflexes, it wasn’t a serious cut, but I remember for just a split second that old childhood instinct of looking around for the adult kicked in… right before I remembered I was the adult, and was the one in charge of the situation.
After that I just got myself plastered up and was groovy. Still have the scar to this day to remind me of my green nemesis.
A bit harsh blaming it on the cabbage tbh.
Nah I’m with OP, it was clearly the cabbage’s fault.
Had to buy toilet paper. That shit magically appeared when I was a kid.
Back in 2014, I got my own apartment, and realized that I am now responsible, not only for feeding myself, but also keeping a roof over my head, I need insurance and need to pay for utilities.
I remeber that I cried a bit when my parents left after having helped me move, then I walked to the shops and bought a steak and made dinner…
If you know how to cook you’re ahead of the curve.
Oh, I am lazy, but decent cook.
Lemon chicken cooked in a covered ceramic pot in the oven is peak lazy cooking, total time 2,5 hours, total time actively doing stuff in the kitchen, 30 min, taste, excellent.
total time actively doing stuff in the kitchen, 30 min
That… is not my definition of lazy.
Well, those 30 min of work gets you not only a cooked lemon chicken, but an excellent sauce and fresh rice.
Oh, and all the food can feed four people.
It sounds like a great recipe! But my idea of lazy is more like 5 min than 30.
That sounds more like reheating rather than cooking, but we probably have different standards
@stoy no, what? I mean prep time not cooking time!
The lazy way to cook a whole chicken is simply cut two lemons in half, shove them inside the chicken, pour oil over it, pierce the skin, throw it in the oven. Takes about 2 minutes prep but an hour cooking time.
It’s not how I would normally cook a chicken, but I don’t see spending half an hour doing proper prep as “lazy”, that’s all.
And yeah that was the point I was trying to make in my original comment, that your standard for laziness is not the same as mine!
While hiking for one of the first times as an adult, I remember going to the local school and, upon seeing the school and having to remind myself I was done with school days, thinking “wow this feels weird, it’s like playing the post-story of a video game”.
I clogged the toilet and it overflowed at an apartment I was sharing during a college internship. I panicked and yelled for my roommate. My roommate took care of it by toweling it all up, mopping, and such; I watched him do it all, horrified.
Afterwards I realized what a shitty thing it was for me to a) not clean it up myself and b) not even help. I grew up a lot that day.
Getting a pet. I moved out of my parents’ place in 2009, but bringing home a cat a few months later felt like the first big adult decision I had made. I had pets before, but they were family pets so my siblings and parents all had a hand in taking care of them.
But the feeling of “this is a living thing and it’s relying on me to keep it alive” was an entirely different thing.
