It gets to 4pm and I can barely keep my eyes open. I’m struggling to stay away from the office chocolate biscuits or my 3405 cup of tea. The office is basically empty as for some reason or other, I didn’t get the memo about not turning up to work and I’ve probably thought about quitting to get a job on a beach about 16 times, today alone.
The fact of the matter is, as much as I enjoy a healthy bank account (for a few days every month), walking around town with a coffee like I’m summin’ out of The Devil Wears Prada and the thought that I might be the tiniest bit important to an actual real life company, I’m actually the world’s worst functioning adult.
I’ve got pension life down to a tee – constantly poor, tired and moaning.
But actual adulting? Nah, I’m not ready.
I would still happily sleep in until 12 every day. It’s near on impossible to get up in the morning without an hour’s worth of snooze alarms and the morning blues are so real.
I hold so many grudges about paying bills and debts that the thought that I aim to be moved out, paying extortionate London rent in the next year actually makes me feel a little ill.
The moment someone whispers pub lunch at work is music to my ears. Get me out of this office plz.
I still stalk travel accounts on Instagram like I have the money and career break to be able to get up and leave forever.
80% of my day is spent on Wowcher or looking at holidays in a bid to avoid real life.
I am very good at buying unnecessary shit and my wardrobe is getting out of control.
I spend at least a collective 45 minutes of my day at work hiding in the toilet from everyone.
I would still happily sit and watch back to back Hannah Montana with no regrets.
I’m very confused about what I’m supposed to be eating and drinking now that my body is adulting.
I would really miss lazy days if something like a human baby came along. Except for the prospect of maternity leave, that makes me very excited.
If I had £5 to my name but fancied a £4 milkshake, I’d probably buy the milkshake.
One of my greatest hobbies is looking at the work calendar and deciding when I can next take a day off.
I spend a few too many weekends drinking my body weight in alcohol and then spending Sunday on my death bed so that doesn’t quite scream, adult.
I hadn’t realised that exercise was a required adult thing otherwise we’d get fat. I’m not too happy about that one either.
The thing is, there are many things about me that make me super excited about being in my twenties, embracing the adult life. I love buying kitchen utensils and cute home-ware. I am a freak about my bed sheets and love cleaning. I’m pretty chuffed about being in a long term relationship. I love a good documentary and more often than not, I’m telling the rest of the family off for leaving their shit everywhere, which is basically adulting 2.0.
So I’m nailing it. Sort of…
ps. the image is me last summer at pre-drinks. that’s before the club…..