I realized lately that I’m showing more and more signs of being an adult whether I like it or not. Here are a few I’ve noticed…

• I go to bed when I’m tired, and it’s always before 11pm, unless there’s REALLY good reason to be up later.
• I wake up (on my own) by 8am every morning unless I’m sick. I remember when that was stupidly early.
• The word “refinance” has entered my personal lexicon.
• More of my friends are announcing KIDS than ENGAGEMENTS (though I just had an engagement announcement tonight, EXCITING!)
• Teenagers think I’m ancient because I’m over 25.
• I’m about to have a 10 year high school reunion and realistically thinking about what I want to do for my 30th birthday. Disney is always an option.
• I recently (and finally) learned how to slice an apple without the help of a corer the way my mother did when I was a kid. It’s frustrated me for years that I couldn’t get the apple pieces to come out evenly. I’ve now managed it that way for almost a year. I don’t know how, but the correct slicing method seems to have just clicked.
• I’ve become really bad with names. Royally bad with names.
• I’ve worked enough jobs that I have job history and not just a sparse resumé.
• I don’t buy things I want as much because I first must consider my budget. This is boring and frustrating but helpful at the same time.
• I think about ways that I’m being an adult… and then make a bullet point list.

So yeah… I guess I’m an adult. You can’t make me be a grown-up, though. There is a difference.