I recently watched a Youtube video (not a surprise, I spend waaaay more time on Youtube than I should) that was about being a bad adult.

It made me laugh mainly because it was pretty close to how I am.  It then prompted a discussion between myself and my other half about other ways in which we are pretty bad at being adults.

Often I feel like a kid playing dress-up and doing a pretty poor job of it too!

So, enjoy the list of things that probably make me pretty bad at being an adult. Hope this is enlightening and that maybe some of you will nod along going “yup, I do that too!”

You can now read Part 2 of Why I’m Bad at being an Adult.

Not Measuring

I am very much a seat-of-her-pants kind of person when it comes to ordering things.

If I decide I want a bookcase or a piano or whatever I almost never measure to see if it can go in the allotted place I’ve picked out.

This has led to my house looking like a second-hand store of random pieces of furniture in weird places.

Robot Vacuum Gadget

A few years ago I had a “seat-of-her-pants” moment again (this is a pretty frequent thing) and bought a robot vacuum.

Most normal adults would look disdainfully at such a purchase, considering it frivolous.

Which..v.it kinda was… after all the strongest freaking Dyson hasn’t been able to truly cope with the level cat hair in our house and so a little robot vacuum wasn’t going to succeed anytime soon.

But it’s a frigging robot which is awesome!

We called him Mo (after the cleaning robot in Wall-E) and let him have run of the house… though we still needed to get a vacuum for the stairs… and he gets stuck a lot… so not the best use of my money but he’s a frigging robot so he stays!

Eating food from the packet

I’m not really into serving, so if I buy something like cheesecake or an apple pie, I won’t cut it into segments, placing a piece on a little plate to eat like a grown-up.

I just hack at it while it’s in the foil dish (after all why make more washing up to do!?).

The (few) times people have been in my house for food (I’m not usually that hospitable) I can’t really serve so I again usually just hack at the pie and drop crumbling lumps of it on a plate for them rather than serving it in some elegant visually pleasing way.

 

Doing chores

Okay so I do chores in a grudging kind of way, but there are some chores like ironing and stitching up tears/re-attaching buttons that I just find so unbelievably boring.

So they usually end up in a laundry basket marked “To do”….until the basket becomes too full to close.

Then I MIGHT sort them… or I find somewhere else to hide put them.

Ironing is the most tedious job and I tend to just hang my clothes in the hopes they will lose at least some of their wrinkles. If not… I have worn wrinkly clothes before… to work. 😀

Avoiding emptying the bin

Another chore really, I hate emptying bins so I will usually cram it so full that when it comes time to empty, you can barely get the stuff out.

I also balance rubbish on top to make it as full as possible. I do this until my partner takes the hint and empties it.

It was probably due to the fact the outside bins were always in such an awkward place.

Obsession with coloured pens

I get overly excited over coloured pens and use them all the time.

They have to be in rainbow order and I get really stressed if I lose one.

My entire daily planner is written in coloured pen.

I also have about twenty different types of rainbow pens with different thicknesses and shades.

Apparently, cheques are not acceptable in green felt pen. Stupid banks!

Cookie overload

As of writing this, I’m in my 30s and I STILL don’t know how many cookies will make me sick.

Yet when in the mood I will totally eat too many then moan about it, while curled up on the couch in a fetal position.

Two hours later… I will continue to eat more cookies.  Seriously, I have ZERO self-control.

Free dishes

I have a habit of keeping people’s dishes. Whenever my partner (who does all the cooking) goes back to see his family, my parents seem to think I might just die from starvation (they don’t realise how many cookies I eat!).

Because they know I hate cooking  my mother will turn up with some food on her nice matching plates/dishes.

I eat the food (because yay, free food) and then wash the plate/dish and just put it in my cupboard… actually I do have every intention to return it.

But I hate visiting people so it sits around while I contemplate visiting….then I get bored of seeing it on the side and put it in the cupboard out of the way and huzzah it is now mine (yay, free shit).

Refusing to take off my PJs

If I am in my comfy PJs I hate having to take them off.

Soooo if I have to go out to get food or some shit, I will put my jeans on OVER my PJs which then makes my normally baggy jeans tight and uncomfortable.

However, this does make me get shit done quicker and get home so I can go back just wearing PJs.

Answering the door… and the telephone

I hate answering the door and the phone (even my mobile phone). It’s like ‘Why are you ringing me!? Just text!’

If I do have to answer the door I usually open it a crack and try not to have a conversation with the person who rudely interrupted my day because they wanted to deliver a parcel or read the meter!

Damn you, people!

More often than not, I will usually remain upstairs and pretend I can’t hear them.  And yes, even if it’s family at the door.

Cooking in any form

That’s just a big fat nope!

Cooking is boring and I just don’t want to learn how to cook, it’s just not my thing.

To be fair I am not really to be trusted in the kitchen and can’t even boil an egg.  (I have a special machine that does it for me)

When my partner is away, I just eat toast… all the time….. like just toast.

Hmmm maybe this is why my parents bring me food. *thinks*

Looking after my car

I am well versed in oil & tyre changing, fluid checking etc but I tend to just ignore most of this.

Which means I often get caught out on the road without windscreen fluid or oil.

Yes, I have been caught without petrol before now… was my birthday and we were going to Cirque du Soleil and my car died.

The RAC man (breakdown recovery) found it highly amusing that I’d run out of petrol… I’d like to say it was the only time… *cough*

Losing everything

I constantly lose things like my keys, my hairbrush, my phone, headphones, chargers, a million pens… keys seem to be the biggest culprit.

I just end up carrying things around then put them down in random places and I do mean RANDOM places.

Like in the airing cupboard or on top of the fridge.  Feels like my life is a one big f*#!ing scavenger hunt!

And I’m LOSING that hunt.

 

Am I alone in being a bad adult or did any of this strike a cord?

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