Monday, March 12, 2012

A Big Day for Adulthood

I'm often at odds with how old my birth certificate says I am and how old I actually feel. I can't truly know what it's like for others, but I assume they have a little light or bell inside of them that goes off one day and goes DING! Welcome to adulthood, your life insurance paperwork awaits you in the veranda. And from then on they feel like an adult.

I have never felt any such ding. And I don't know what a veranda is.

Living a nomadic lifestyle (in search of fun and adventure, mind you, not pemmican) makes the postponing of adulthood magnificently easy. You can't very well buy a house or have a baby when there's new places to see and dingy hostels to lower your standards to. Nor should you very well do those things when you just don't wanna.

Which is where I stand, pushing dangerously close to 30.

However! Adulthood does creep up on those who actively try to avoid, which brings me to today. A few things of rather adulty significance happened today, regardless of how hard I tried to fight them off.

Numero Uno: I cooked a meal in my very own crock pot, which I own and is mine
I mentioned my love and loss of a crock pot a few months ago when I was living in Norway. Martin got me a crock pot for my birthday (a huge surprise, as they were brand spankin' new to Norway and I didn't yet know they existed there). Very shortly after that we learned we were moving to Australia (yay!) so I knew I had to take the crock pot back to the store to be loved by somebody else (boo).

But I knew I'd fill that void with an Australian crock pot, which would no doubt be a fraction of the cost of its Norwegian cousin. And I did! As the lord sayeth, "and it was good". Here is the recipe I used to inaugurate my crock pot with, in case you are a low carb disciple, like to prepare meals ahead of time and wish to revel with me in nostalgia.

Numero Dos: My grad school student loans came out of deferment
Which is code for, "pay up, bitches". I am not the first person on this planet to discover prolonging adolescence. My ancestors who came before me pretty much perfected it by attending grad school. However they had the good sense to go to an American university, where grad school takes two years (instead of one like I did) and where there's a decent chance of getting the school to fund some of their education. Not I, though. I prefer my schooling short, sweet and at an unfavorable exchange rate. Have you seen what the US dollar is compared to the pound? It basically means I get to pay double the sticker price.

So pay up I shall. Americans have the distinct privilege of paying for their higher education out the arse. Just because I jumped ship years ago doesn't mean the world of free universities (which is rapidly shrinking) is open to me. I am bound by the chains of the citizenship of my birth. Which brings me to the next step on the ladder to adulthood:

Numero Tres: I mailed my absentee ballot application
I voted! Well...I submitted the proper documentation so the County Auditor in the county where I last resided in the United States will send me an absentee ballot during the next general election.

Sadly, you don't get a sticker to wear on the day you do that.

Come the month or so prior to the U.S. presidential election I'll get a ballot in the mail so I can vote from abroad. Civic duty, future of the country and all that BS. I saw Obama - twice - when he was a freshman senator, did you know that? It remains one of my least dignified moments in the history of my life, to this day.

When you're pushing 30 with nothing "grown up" to show for it, you've accumulated an undignified moment or two in your day.

And, really, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Now if you'll excuse me, I believe I have some sleeping-until-noon to attend to.

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