I'm Afraid of the Bug in My Room (and Other Reasons Why I'm Not an Adult Yet)
I need to confess something to all of you. I’ve been sleeping on my living room couch for three days straight. Why? Well, a totally normal reason: because I think I saw a bug in my room. Is that acceptable past the age of like, 8?
It all started when I awoke from my peaceful slumber (dreams of Tom Hardy) to a weird, hissing noise in the corner of my room.What was that? I thought to myself. Could it be sprinklers going off at night? I had just moved in to a new apartment, a cute little cottage with its own backyard, the first real adult-type place I was proud to call home. Maybe the grass was so luscious it required nighttime watering. Or, knowing my luck, it could also be bad plumbing. Or even worse, was it a ghost?
If my new place was haunted, hopefully it was by a good looking ghost. A ghost that looked like Tom Hardy.
As I sat in bed terrified, the strange hissing got louder. Eventually I couldn’t stand it, so I turned on the lights to explore. And as I did, some sort of huge, winged insect, prehistoric in size, flew across my room.
I did the only thing I could think of: I called my dad.
“There’s something in my room!” I whimpered to him, hiding under my covers like a 7-year-old reading a book with a flash light.
“Alison, it’s midnight. Your mother and I are asleep. What was it?” he mumbled.
“A bat!” I exclaimed.
“No, a flying cockroach!”
“Maybe a hissing beetle!?” I decided.
There was a long pause. I didn’t get it. Why was he acting like a 28-year-old woman calling her father in the middle of the night about the bug in her room was abnormal?
“Could it just have been a moth?”
“Dad! Take this seriously! And if it is, it’s like the monster from the Mothman Prophesies. It was huge!”
He admitted, correctly, that there was nothing he could do at night, and there was probably nothing he should do at all. I was an adult now, who had been living on her own for well over ten years. It was time to make adult decisions.
So, I stared the bug right in the eye(s), and. . . I let it have my room. I took my pillow and blanket and camped out on my living room couch. And that’s where I’ve been for three days.
Which got me to thinking: maybe, at 28, I’m not quite yet an adult. There were some other signs that showed me I wasn’t really ready for the title either.
1) Running out of things like toothpaste and toilet paper feel like the biggest burdens ever
I will MacGyver my way out of a situation before leaving my house to run errands, whether that means using paper towels for toilet paper or making dinner out of pantry leftovers. I’m that lazy. Errands are my personal Mt. Everest.
2) Voicemails are so terrifying
People who leave voicemails are INSANE! Text me like a normal human being! And I know what a missed call means—it means I need to call you back. I don’t need 13 seconds of your voice telling me what I already know. Plus, about 20 of those voicemails are CVS auto refill messages telling me my prescriptions are ready.
3) I just found mustard in my fridge that expired in 2009
Serious Q: do you think it’s still good?
4) You are supposed to clean your bed sheets and pillowcases regularly?
Whoops. I usually only did this out of necessity, like the time my bad spray tan left a body print outline on my sheets, like a murder scene out of Law and Order SVU.
5) I do all of my work from my couch, despite having a home office.
Because couches are so comfy. And easy to nap on. And close to my television. And the fridge. #youngprofessional
6) It took me two weeks to set up my wireless Internet
And eight calls to my cable company, three visits from a repair man, two different modems, and a lot of tears.
7) I still call my parents for help. . .
. . .And sometimes in the middle of the night, when I see a bug in my room.
Upon introspection, it’s probably time for me to put on my big girl panties and grow up, or at least ask the bug in my room to start paying rent. I think I’ll start acting like an adult today.
Time to go clean out my fridge.