FWIW, this is how they punish people in solitary confinement in prison. They call it a prison loaf.
Sure, I could get one of those. But by Monday, there would be three tools in every room of my house, four in my garage and seven under the backseat of my car. By Wednesday, most of them would no longer exist in this dimension.
I got married so I didn’t have to adult anymore. Tho I am in charge of electronics.
I read the post before looking at the name and said “wait, I know someone else who did that!” :smack:
I was just thinking about something along these lines the other day. I’ve never really felt like my house is furnished / decorated like an adult’s. Looking at it the other day I decided it will pass, but only on account of the acceptability of the shabby chic look. I don’t have any quality artwork; only cheaply framed prints and a couple of original works by a friend. I have cheap throw rugs all over the place; they suit the room well enough but they’re just cheap things I picked up at discount stores. I don’t have a proper set of dishes or silverware and forget cookware. Speaking of which, I rarely cook, other than whatever I prepare for my lunch at work. I could never throw together an impromptu meal, unless one wanted to eat yogurt with a side of microwave ready bacon. Luckily I live alone (or maybe it’s the reason *why *I live alone.) Cell phones continue to vex me. I cannot understand them, though I continue to give it the ol’ college try (if that college is one reached by the short bus).
I had chicken for the meal with a side of tater tots (which I only ate less than half of, in my defense). The donut was planned as dessert, but the “vanilla bean” flavor was a little too sweet, so I only ate a single bite of it.
I don’t think fancy donuts are ever going to be my thing. Does that sort of discrimination count as adulting?
There were people in line before and after me, so I was clearly not the only culprit.
I was hoping I would never be a fully functional adult in any way but then those damn kids came along and I had to act responsibly. I’ve still managed to be an adult only on a part time basis though.
Wife: “I’m going to check the mail. Watch the baby for a minute.”
Me: “ok”
…several minutes later…
Wife: “What the heck happened here…?”
I’m on the floor, broken toys spread everywhere, 18 month old is standing on top of me arms raised in a classic “O’Doyle rules!!” pose.
Ah, but an adult never stands so tall as when he takes a dive for a child 
Exercise. We eat pretty well, but I sit on my ass all day at work and need to not do that the rest of the time. I usually fail.
Also, I’m outsmarted and out-negotiated by my 4 year old on an embarrassingly regular basis.
I cook Thanksgiving for our extended family once every three years (when it’s my turn) and it’s just a matter of timing. The turkey takes about four hours (all hail Alton Brown) and the mashed potatoes take maybe twenty minutes, so I don’t start the potatoes until about thirty minutes before the turkey is ready.
Prep work, of course, is key. By all means, peel and dice the potatoes and get them into the salted water, but don’t turn on the oven burner to start boiling until it’s time.
There just never seems to be a Phillips butter knife laying around when you need one.
true dat
I’m sensing a new product idea forming…
First one with a prototype gets to be an adult!
ETA: Actually, using the word “prototype” kinda made me feel like a grown-ass man. Yeah, bitches!
“Areas of your life where you have failed to be …” – for me, most of them.
A late uncle of mine found himself in that situation. He was a dreamy artistic type, clueless about anything practical – and totally innumerate. His wife did all the grown-up stuff. He was totally convinced that he would die before her, so “no problem”; but – in their eighties – it so worked out, that she died first. The poor old sod – with his mind unravelling anyway, with old age – had a miserable time for the half-dozen years, over which he survived her. Friends and relatives helped him out, all they could; but it wasn’t a happy experience.
I feel for you here. My brother and I dearly love each other; but when we’re in a situation of sharing quarters, we’re like the two guys in The Odd Couple– me the slob, him the neatnik. His – in my view – obsession with instantly putting everything away, makes me want to scream; my terminally slack and messy ways (“Organised-ness was made for man, not vice versa”) have the same effect on him.
Dating/partnering up. Sometimes I think it would be nice to have a female partner but it just seems like so much work and aggravation.
Apparently you can outsource your unwanted adulting to them though.
I can’t remember to bring the things that I need with me. Say I need to go to the post office to mail a package. I will routinely forget the package. And the post office is 15 miles from our house, so this is not a minor inconvenience.
Buying a car on my own. I never have. My father was the car person in the family and every single car I’ve ever owned, all used, have been selected by him, with my agreement. That included the car I’m in now.
My father was killed about a year and a half ago, and I’m not sure what I’ll do if and when the time comes to car shop on my own.