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Let's talk about laundry, the never-ending battle of adulthood. In high school, I threw everything into one load and called it a day. Now, I'm sorting colors, whites, delicates. I feel like a laundry detective solving the mystery of the missing sock. And laundry day is a whole production. I start with motivation, like, "I'm going to conquer this!" By the end, I'm sitting on a pile of clothes, questioning my life choices. "Is this how adulting is supposed to be? Surrounded by a mountain of dirty laundry?"
I swear, if someone invented self-folding clothes, they'd be a billionaire. I'd invest all my adulting points in that invention. Until then, I'll just keep pretending that my clothes are doing their own thing in the closet. Maybe they'll learn to fold themselves one day.
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You know, high school graduation is like surviving a zombie apocalypse. You walk out of there with a diploma, looking around like, "Did I just make it out alive?" And then they throw you into the real world, and you're like, "Wait, I didn't train for this!" I mean, in high school, they prepare you for the SATs, but they don't tell you how to do your taxes. I can find the hypotenuse of a triangle, but ask me to fill out a W-4 form, and suddenly I'm lost in a Bermuda Triangle of confusion.
And don't get me started on resumes. They should have a class in high school called "Adulting 101," where they teach you how to write a resume, change a tire, and figure out what the heck a 401(k) is. Instead, they're like, "Here's your diploma, good luck out there!
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So, I thought being an adult would be all about having it together. But turns out, it's more about pretending to have it together while secretly googling everything. I recently moved into my own place, and I had to buy furniture. I walk into the store, and the salesperson is like, "What's your style?" My style? I don't know, the "I hope this doesn't break the bank" style? Who knew picking a couch would be so stressful?
And then there's grocery shopping. In high school, I thought cooking was ordering pizza. Now, I'm in the produce section, squeezing avocados like I'm auditioning for America's Got Talent. "Is this ripe or am I just an avocado whisperer?
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So, I graduated high school, right? And suddenly, I'm thrust into this world of adulting. I'm trying to adult, but I feel like I missed the memo. Where's the handbook for this stuff? I'm just out here winging it, hoping for the best. And job interviews? They're like a game of 20 questions. "Where do you see yourself in five years?" I don't know, man, I just learned how to do laundry without turning everything pink. Can we take it one step at a time?
I thought I was going to be living in a penthouse by now, but instead, I'm mastering the art of budgeting. You know you're an adult when you get excited about a sale on toilet paper. "Buy one, get one free? Sign me up!
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