You know what I hate about growing up? I hate hate hate that by the time you are 30 and you have already been in a relationship for 9 years, a wedding (even if not legally recognized in your state because you both manage to pee sitting down) becomes too impractical. Jesus Christ I did everything right, I did what I was supposed when I was younger. I worked extra and paid off the credit card debt, and saved like mad, and watched the tight budget, and ended up buying the house. I was all responsible and practical. It got me my house, which I love. It got me a fucking kitchen remodel. Yeah, let’s hear it for the 9 year old girl dreaming of Formica samples and light fixtures.
That’s my rant, I’m pissed that I wasted all that potential fun time for the reward of spending my Saturdays filling tiny holes in the cabinets and going into panic attack mode when I think of all the things that can go wrong when painting. Don’t get me wrong, I love my house and I will love the kitchen when it’s done, It’s just hard to reconcile the trade sometimes. Also, let’s not forget, I did do my fair share of immoral, dirty, wake up face down in pain partying. And really, if someone were to offer me a wedding right now, I’d have to refuse since I am, in fact, too practical to actually do it. And, folks, that is what I hate about growing up.