Serious Adulting Happened

Nowadays, everyone makes jokes about adulting.

Basically, adulting is a verb used to describe any action that fulfills an adult responsibility, like paying bills, cleaning the house, or doing yard work.

“I wrote out my monthly budget today. I did so much adulting.”

“I had to schedule a bunch of doctor’s appointment. Going to pat myself on the back for such good adulting.”

“I actually planned out my meals for the week. Look at me adulting all over the place!”

I make jokes all the time about adulting and about how good I am at it. I pay my bills, I drink eight glasses of water a day, and I get up using only three alarms. I’m such a good adult.

Well, some top tier adulting happened in my life this past Monday and it wasn’t a joking matter. I’m talking first degree, premeditated adulting.

On Monday, I drove up to Spokane and bought a car.

Two weeks ago, while Michael was coming back from Moscow, someone at a stop light threw their car in reverse and backed right into our 1997 Crown Victoria. The other driver managed to take out our entire left headlight, and when I say take out I mean you could see right through the hood of the car into the engine and out the bottom. I could see the blacktop through the hood of the car. It was bad.

Thankfully, the driver was very kind and admitted fault so we got a full insurance payout for the accident. We just had to wait to hear how much we were getting before we could do anything.

Well, Michael and I both considered repairing the Vic. We could probably find an old Crown Vic in a junkyard and pull the headlight for cheap, but fixing the body damage was going to be expensive. We thought it might be better to invest in a new car. Something actually made in this century.

Looking back, this is when we started doing the premeditating I mentioned before.

Two weeks went by and we hadn’t heard anything from our insurance. Finally, on Monday, they called back and said “We’re going to take the car and give you enough money for a down payment on something else. We’ll pay for a rental for five days.”

Well shit, we thought. Time to kick this into high gear. We grabbed our rental, a car that was so fancy I felt uncomfortable being in it, and drove to Spokane to find ourselves a used Prius.

Before heading out, Michael and I had discussed our requirements for our new car. We wanted something made in the last ten years, we wanted it to have cruise control, we wanted it to have less than 100k miles on it, and we wanted it to have no accidents on its record.

Phew, I need to take a minute. Even writing out all of our requirements is a lot of adulting. I need to take a break and go eat a pint of ice cream because no one can tell me not to. Have to remind myself that adulting can also be fun.

Long story short, we found the perfect car. A 2010 Prius for a reasonable price with low mileage. Score.

Since we brought our new car home, I’ve felt giddy. Every time I look out the window, I see our new car and I smile. I feel so cool and so very adult.

On the other hand, I feel light-headed. Looking back we went out, found a car, and agreed to pay for it for the next five years. What have we done? We had no idea what we were doing. What if we screwed up big time? Will anyone tell us if we did?

I joke every single day about how much of an adult I am, but this week I’ve never felt like more of a child. I feel like a five-year-old playing house who just mimics whatever she hears her parents say about buying cars.

Do I even properly understand cars? What does “low mileage” really mean? What exactly is a car loan? Do I even really understand any of this?

I feel like I’m the victim of a very long, elaborate prank. I feel like someone’s going to jump out and say “got you!” I have no idea what I’m doing and I feel like I shouldn’t be held responsible for my actions because, like I said, I have no idea what I’m doing.

I guess that’s the true definition of adulting. Bumbling around, bumping into things, and hoping for the best.


My Day Off!

Today is Thursday and tomorrow I’m coming up to visit!  It was slow at work so I opted to take Thursday off to get all of the errands done.  As well as all the cleaning.  So I figured I’d take a day to do all of it and relax.

Relax?  Hah!  I was mistaken.

Woke up just before my alarm went off at nine in the morning.  My other alarm was going off: the house cat.  She put her nose directly into my ear and started sniffing.  Then she pulled back, sneezed, and yowled at me.  All in my ear.

Get up and go into the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day.  Victoria chases me in there because if I’m home when mom isn’t it must mean that I am a toy to be bitten.  She’s also nice enough to wait in the bathroom while I’m showering because she needs to make sure I make it out safely.

I get dressed in shorts while staring at the rain; all of my pants are in the hamper.  I need to do laundry today before we’re gone all weekend.

I head out and get into the car.  I need to get this car in tip top shape.  First stop: Fred Meyer.  I head in and head to automotive.  I want some new windshield wipers and I need to put a fix-a-flat in my trunk.  I go to the wiper aisle, and for those of you who don’t buy windshield wipers there is usually a fucking bible of every car known to man and which wipers they need.

Now its been replaced with a touch screen thing smaller than my phone.  I hit the button to start it and a weird, animated woman starts talking to me.  I navigate the screen all the way to my car, my year, my model and finally which blades it needs.  I look and it says I need a 24″ 60-240.  So I look over at the fucking wall of wiper blades and can’t find it.  I double check on the screen thing and its turned off.  So I tap it and it starts from the beginning.

Had to do this at least 900 billion times.  I did it so often I figured out how to mute the woman on the screen.  In the end I learned that Fred Meyer doesn’t have my cars specific size in stock.  Fuck.  I go look for the fix-a-flat and fail to find that also.  No problem I’ll be going to get an oil change and they’ll sell the shit I need.  I go to look for low fat cheezits, sour cream and cheddar baked lays, and the teddy grahams I want.

None of them.  In fact, the place where my beloved sour cream and cheddar chips are usually located has been replaced with several dozen bags of roast garlic and ranch flavored baked lays.

Fucking blasphemy.  If they stop selling those chips I love I swear to god I’ll file a formal complaint.  I am their best customer after all.

So Fred Meyer is a bust.  Shit.  I head to the Classic Lube to get my oil changed.  They do, in fact, sell wiper blades.  At almost double the cost of the ones at Fred Meyer.  Those sunsabitches.  I ask them to fix a bunch of small shit on the car just so I can drive it for six straight hours and not worry too much.  One of my minor brake lights was out, the intake filter was almost black with dust and gross, and they will vacuum my car out for free.

Saves me having to find a place to do it in the rain.

Also- when I ask, “Where do you think I can find a fix-a-flat?”

“Fred Meyer.”


Well shit.  So it occurs to me that I’ve seen an Oreilly’s Auto Parts… somewhere.  I google that shit and there is one nearby but by no means close by.  So I drive way out to find it.  First thing I find when I walk in: they are having a sale on wiper blades.

You mother-

So I can’t find fix-a-flat but the dude behind the counter is like, “They are right there in the one spot in the store you didn’t check when you walked around forever looking for it.”

So now I need to rotate my tires.  Even out that wear on them.  So I got Les Shwab tires so I need to find a location because they’ll give me discounts and cool stuff.

Google tells me there is a Les Shwab in the parking lot of:

Fred Meyer.

How the fuck- I knew it was there.  I looked at it.  How did I forget?

Well shit.  Make my way back to where my adventure began and the dude at Les Shwab says it’ll take about 45 minutes and its free.  Fuck yeah!  Les Shwab for life.  So I walk down the block and hit up a teriyaki place.  As soon as I order and sit down Les Shwab calls and says the cars done.  Its been approximately 7 minutes.  Legendary service.

So I head back to the apartment, but the groceries and stuff inside and head to the dumpster to clean out my trunk.  There is like years of shit hidden in there.  I was worried that I was accidentally ruining an archeological dig.  I found a jewel case for a Celine Dion CD.  When the fuck did anyone in this family listen to Celine Dion?

With the car all spruced up I head into the apartment to clean.  Everything.  Its 1 P.M.

I do laundry all day.  I wash the bedsheets and the couch blankets.  I pick up all the garbage, the recycling, the clutter.  I put the folding table away that serves as my GM workstation.  I sweep everything, clean out the cats dis-ass-ster box, sweep again because I’m good an thinking ahead, and then mop.  Vacuum the cat tree, the couch, and all the floors.  Unload the dishwasher and reload it, and wipe every surface down.  All the while Victoria is following me around and yelling at me.

Well now I’m laying on the couch working on my tiny tablet thing.  Didn’t know what to write about but I swear to god today has taken like 40 years to be over.  Its not quite over yet but its almost done.

Tomorrow- I will be heading into Pullman.