1.

On more than one occasion, I’ve resorted to buying a new pair of underwear instead of doing my laundry.

2.

My savings account is really set aside more for an opportunity to do/buy something I can’t typically afford, rather than – oh I don’t know – my future.

3.

I budget monthly for alcohol.

4.

I’ve lived in my apartment for 4 months and still don’t know what days recycling is picked up. I just put the bin out every week and hope they take it.

5.

The average amount of time it takes for clean laundry to get folded and put away is 1-2 weeks. At this point, the laundry basket is my dresser.

6.

I cry every time I overdraft my bank account. I stare at the computer screen astonished each time that the check I wrote a week prior, that I forgot to write in my ledger, comes through. Kids, they never learn.

7.

I justify buying champagne for almost every celebration – raises, jobs, surviving Monday, finally vacuuming.

8.

I compulsively buy god-knows-what (probably another black shirt) from that debt factory, TJ Maxx, and tell myself “I deserve it.”

9.

I’m still acting like leggings are pants. They’re not. Unless you’re six. And they’re purple.

10.

I just laughed vigorously at a poop and pee joke yesterday. I have a strong feeling those will always be funny.

11.

I pretend to know what people are talking about whenever mental math and directions come up. My nodding and frequent words of affirmation as you’re telling me landmarks and numbers mean nothing.

12.

I take showers just to warm up in the Winter and hardly ever finish my meals. My Depression-era grandparents would certainly kick my ass for my wastefulness.

13.

Despite all this, I will continue to complain about how high my utility bills are and how much garbage one human can produce each week.

14.

I still find it worthwhile to scroll through the menial updates of 864 other people’s lives while driving 70 mph on the highway.

15.

I have no idea what Roth IRA means and I start to visibly space out when people talk about deductibles.

16.

I’m not sure when I’m going to be a “real adult” and, frankly, I’m not even a little worried about it.