Baby Steps Toward Adulthood

For all intents and purposes, I’m an adult.  I’m 23 years old, I live on my own (without even roommates), I’m paying off my student loans.  In many ways, I’m a real human being.

But not entirely.

Allie over at Hyperbole and a Half (who gave us the Alot, as you may recall) explains one reason why.

A graph showing the relationship between increasing level of responsibility and decreasing level of productivity.

I did three things yesterday. Now I'm supposed to KEEP doing things? (Notice that she can get done with her post-writing responsibilities. I'm backed up like ten.)

The thing about this is, I’ve realized lately that I’m beginning to head some of these off at the pass.  For example: in the past, I’ve just sort of let mess build up until it was an almost insurmountable day-long task to make my living space even sanitary, let alone presentable.  (You can ask my college roommate about that, though it must be said that he gave me a run for my money in discombobulation.)  I did one of these ridiculous cleaning/laundry/dishes sprees the other day… and since then, my floor has been walkable, my laundry has stayed mostly in the closet, and my dishes are clean enough to eat off of.  I’ve begun to find the rhythm of these things, the naturalness of just washing dishes when I’m done with them and whatnot.  It feels good to know that I can achieve that elusive normality of function.

Now, if I could only make myself exercise…

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