Okay, so my friends all say I’ve “matured” because I got a standing mixer. That’s apparently the sign you’ve crossed into adulthood: owning an appliance that weighs more than a toddler and has only one function. I don’t even bake! I just put it on the counter like a trophy: “Look at me, I am stable. I have a mixer that doesn’t fit in a drawer, I pay my taxes, and I buy the premium paper towels.”
Speaking of adult purchases, I recently spent way too much time comparing dishwasher pods. I’m reading the back trying to figure out if my dishes need “lemon zest technology” or “extra cascading action,” and the whole time I’m thinking, “My grandparents washed dishes in a bucket after walking uphill both ways, and here I am needing a second opinion on soap.” I called my mom to ask if she had any tips, and she just laughed and said, “Get plates you don’t mind being slightly dirty.” That’s wisdom.
And the gym—I don’t know why I keep trying. It’s just a place where I pay money to feel guilty for not going. The treadmill always looks at me like, “I know what you did last summer, and it was not cardio.” The last time I went, a trainer asked my “fitness goals.” I said, “Avoid eye contact with people who run marathons.” He wrote it down like, “Okay, feasible.” Then he asked about my diet. I told him I eat in a way that keeps me alive, but not well enough for Instagram. Apparently, that’s not a plan.
You ever notice how everything has a monthly subscription now? Music, TV, meal kits, meditation apps—there’s probably a subscription to remind me I have too many subscriptions. I signed up for one of those meditation apps, and now I stress about not having time to meditate. The notifications are like, “Take a deep breath.” I’m like, “I would, but I’m busy ignoring your other notifications.”
Dating is weird too. We’ve got apps that can tell you your soulmate is 3.7 miles away, but they can’t tell you whether that person knows how to use a microwave without burning water. You’ll be matching with someone based on your shared love of hiking and tacos, but their profile photo is them holding a fish. Why is every photo a fish? Are we dating humans or trying to start an aquarium? I never know what the fish is supposed to represent. “Look, I can provide.” Provide what? Mercury poisoning?
I tried a cooking class thinking I’d learn something practical, but instead it was mostly people “connecting with their culinary journey.” Meanwhile, I’m in the corner burning shallots and asking if it’s okay to use scissors on herbs. The instructor told us to “cook with intention,” and I’m like, “My intention is to avoid food poisoning.”
Anyway, thanks for listening. I gotta get home before my mixer feels neglected.
