I suck at food too. I refuse to cook anything more complicated than boxed mac & cheese anymore. My diet is mostly sandwiches and string cheese. I go to bed hungry a lot because I am too stubborn to eat a decent meal.
I’m all over the map lately. I have not completed a single task lately. Each room is half cleaned. The laundry is mostly done. I have the paint and I admire the great color choices I’ve made and I hate wall washing, so I can’t start until I do that.
Long story which I’ve related elsewhere on these boards, but I have been the responsible adult in my life since somewhere around 10 years old. I get s**t done and don’t mess around.
However…I still squeal and shriek and run in circles when there’s a spider in my vicinity. Eventually I will calm down, get the vacuum and suck the nasty little thing up in it, but not before I totally freak out about it.
My husband is a grownup, so he does all the cell phone-insurance-bills-car-travel-taxes-mortgage sort of stuff.
I just cook, clean, and shop. If he ever dies, I’ll be up the creek.
I can cook quite well, but I’m lousy at planning meals for the week. Left to my own devices I might make one or two decent meals each week, but then subsist on pasta, frozen pizza, and takeout. And eat out for lunch each day.
Luckily my wife can handle the planning, and I can take care of the execution. I used to sneer when she’d pick out a “dump stuff in a pan with a can of cream of whatever” sort of recipe… but I’ve come tor realize that it’s not like I was going to make anything better.
Now she’ll pick out a handful of real meals each week, print up the recipes and get the groceries. If I think the recipe needs a bechemel instead of celery goup that’s on me. I’ll shut the fuck up about how the recipe was terrible and wrong and why did you even pick it out. And she’ll shut the fuck up about my improvised substitutions and the three extra pots I dirtied up to do things my way.
And we both end up eating better.
Eating. I mean, I have manners. I chew with my mouth closed, I put my napkin in my lap… But it’s pretty much a given that some of the food on my plate will find it’s way onto the table and onto my shirt.
White clothes are wasted on me.
Also, I don’t do math anymore, that’s what the calculator on my phone is for.
And on occasion, shit gets kicked under my bed instead of picking it up and putting it where it belongs.
This thread is doing two things:
- Making me feel better for not being the only person who struggles with grown-up shit.
- Making me feel worse for reminding me that the tool thing is far from being the only grown-up thing I struggle with. With almost every post, I find myself going “Yep, me too.”
Running subcuticular with 5-0 Prolene leaves a better trouser scar.
I don’t give a rat’s ass about curb appeal of my lawn or house facade. I’ll do pretty landscaping and painting when I need to sell it, otherwise scraggly shrubs, puffy dandelions, and peeling paint are just fine with me.
This is me too – the food preferences of an eight-year-old. And I stay up too late on “school nights”.
I’m not telling, because the internet is forever and I don’t want it used against me in the future!
I floss maybe once a week. Sometimes less.
I thought of another one. My floor is a perfectly good place for clothes that are not fresh and not quite dirty. I work in an office so I don’t get them that dirty and I don’t feel the need to put them away every day.
My mom used to be so anal about putting everything away. Never a stray cloth out or a blanket out, not even if you were sick. I believe living is for comfort.
It seems to me that for an adult, no weekend should pass without accomplishing something productive, even something as small as doing a load of wash or getting some exercise. And yet I semi-regularly spend entire weekends playing a video game or binging some TV show.
I do in fact get things done eventually, so my place doesn’t look like it belongs in Hoarders. And I live on my own so all the stuff falls on me, including maintenance of a small mammal. I nevertheless regret my decisions when the clock ticks midnight on Sunday night and I’ve done nothing for the past 48 hours.
It depends. Did you have chicken for your meal and doughnuts for desert? If so, you made the right choice. Doing it the other way around would have been irresponsible.
Oh, shit. I’m in BIIIIIIG trouble. Wait, does playing golf count?
I’m not married, have no kids, don’t have a house. Could I get those things? Yeah, but I really don’t want them. Lots of people consider you a failure as an adult until you are married with children and a mortgage.
You need to get something like this. I own a toolkit like that, it was less than $30 and it has served pretty much every tool based need I have had for years. Plus I know where everything is.
Did you carry your own clubs? We might be able to write that one in under “exercise”.
I can cook adequately, but only one thing at a time. It baffles me, how someone can cook six things at once, and have them all ready at the same time. So because of this, I’ve gotten into the habit of just cooking everything in one big pot. Just dump in several ingredients together, like a stew or goulash. It’s taken me a while, though, to figure out which ingredients take the longest to cook.
And I don’t have the slightest idea how a car works. Luckily I’ve found a great mechanic who doesn’t take advantage of this.
And then there’s Medicare supplemental insurance. But NOBODY understands that. I learned a little when I turned 65, and picked a good policy. I’m keeping it, basically out of inertia.