Something I have been seeing on tumblr lately is a cover photo for The NeverEnding Story with the caption "what it is when you're a kid" and then below is a picture of an overflowing laundry basket with the caption "as an adult". I find this to be incredibly and soul-crushingly accurate.
I do laundry approximately twice a week. Not because I have that many clothes and change my outfit three times daily, but because I run out of clean uniforms. I wash incredibly tiny loads simply because there are not enough navy blue shirts or khaki pants in my dresser and it's sad. I have a recurring nightmare of getting up at 4:30 so I can be at work by 6 and either my alarm doesn't go off at all, which is terrifying enough, or that I wake up and find that I have no more uniforms and can't get to work because I have nothing to wear.
This is what my life has been reduced to. I wear my uniform so often that it's a treat when I get to wear "real people" clothes. Yesterday I had the whole day off and I thought it was the greatest thing to dress up in a skirt and go out. It really is the simple things in life that count.
Add to that the neverending story of buying groceries, cleaning (the dirt just never gets the hint that I don't want it on my kitchen floor), taking out the trash, washing and putting away dishes (because nobody else does it), going to work, or waking up with something being sore because I pulled it at work the day before and didn't realize it.
That's adult life, kids. It's a cycle of drudgery and pain that doesn't end but it's a lot better than no independence.
The moral of the story is to A. move to Neverland, B. live at home, C. get really rich and hire a maid to do everything, D. stay in school forever so even if you have to do all of that, it's on a smaller scale because of student housing and you don't have to pay loans.
I personally am opting for choice A and have already sent a message to Peter Pan asking if he needs another mother. I've included my resume which details my ability to tell stories, first aid knowledge, and babysitting experience. My cover letter insists that I will never demand he and the Lost Boys take medicine or have bedtimes and details why I am not an adult and despite my physical appearance, I am still a child at heart. I expect a reply back within the week, assuming I make it past the Tinker Bell screening.
If I don't post ever again, it's because I got accepted and I don't believe that internet reaches as far as the second star to the right.
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