"Adulting is Hard"

walks on stage, adjusts mic

So I'm 30 now, which means I'm officially an adult. Apparently. Though I still feel like I'm just a confused teenager wearing a slightly more expensive t-shirt.

You know what nobody tells you about being an adult? How much time you spend pretending to understand what other adults are talking about. I was at a dinner party last week – because that's what we do now, we have "dinner parties" instead of just "eating pizza on the couch" – and someone started talking about mortgage rates.

I just nodded along like, "Oh yes, rates. Very mortgage-y." Meanwhile, I'm thinking a mortgage is something you get at a fancy French restaurant.

mimics sophisticated nodding

"Mmm, yes, I'll have the mortgage, medium rare."

And don't get me started on small talk with neighbors. I live in an apartment building, and there's this unspoken rule that you have to acknowledge each other in the hallway. But what do you say?

"Hey, nice... existing near me."

"Thanks, you too. Love what you've done with your... door."

The worst is when you're both waiting for the elevator in complete silence. It's like a hostage situation, but with more awkward eye contact. You're both just standing there, praying the elevator comes before one of you has to comment on the weather.

stares ahead uncomfortably

"So... it's very... outside today."

I tried being one of those people who meal preps. You know these people? They spend their entire Sunday cooking seventeen identical containers of sad-looking chicken and broccoli. I bought all the containers, felt very organized, very adult-like.

Week one: Perfect little meals, properly labeled. I felt like a productivity guru.

Week two: I'm eating cereal for dinner and using the containers to store my collection of takeout sauce packets.

holds up imaginary container

"Ah yes, vintage soy sauce, 2023. A good week for Chinese delivery."

Speaking of food, grocery shopping as an adult is weird. When you're a kid, the grocery store is magical. Everything looks amazing. You want the cookies, the candy, the sugar cereal with the cartoon mascot.

Now I walk through the store like a tired parent, even though I don't have kids. I'm just disappointed in all my options.

walks slowly, shaking head

"This yogurt has too much sugar. These crackers have no fiber. Why is everything either terrible for you or tastes like cardboard had a baby with sadness?"

And I've started doing this thing where I read nutrition labels like I understand them. I don't. I just nod thoughtfully and put things back like I'm some kind of wellness expert.

"Hmm, seventeen grams of... things. That seems like too many things."

The real kicker is when you find yourself getting excited about household appliances. Last month, I spent twenty minutes explaining to my friend why I love my new vacuum cleaner. TWENTY MINUTES. About a vacuum.

"It has three different settings! And look at this attachment! This little brush thing goes in corners!"

My friend just stared at me like I'd been replaced by a suburban mom from 1987.

But you know what? I've decided to embrace it. Yes, I get excited about good storage solutions. Yes, I have opinions about thread count. Yes, I've used the phrase "back in my day" unironically, and I'm only thirty.

shrugs confidently

Because being an adult isn't about having it all figured out. It's about confidently pretending you know what you're doing while secretly googling "how to fold a fitted sheet" for the hundredth time.

And if that's not the American dream, I don't know what is.

pause

Also, if anyone actually knows how to fold a fitted sheet, please find me after the show. I'll pay you.

mic drop gesture

Thank you, you've been a wonderful audience! Don't forget to tip your servers and call your parents – they're worried about you!

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Total time: approximately 3 minutes when delivered at normal comedy pace