It’s Wednesday. Usually, I’d complain about this day. I mean, when do working folk not complain, unless it’s 4:55 PM on a Friday? But it’s like a Super Hump Wednesday because it’s a major holiday and we also have Friday off and holy shit, I’m getting so excited to leave already.

Is it wrong to get so excited about work ending? Like, do adult people get just as prepared to leave like I do? Last semester, during my finals week, I snuck out of a classroom to avoid sitting through endless presentations; Literally crawled out of a classroom, on my hands and knees, and threw my book bag out the door to avoid having too much weight on me while I walked like an infant. That’s basically what happens when I leave work at 5 PM and everyone is still there and I feel awkward. Screw your judgmental glares, I live in the boonies and you’re all a subway ride away.

My point from that tedious rant, is that I need to learn how to cook. What? How did we go from shamelessly crawling out of a classroom to learning how to cook? Here’s the explanation.

I recently came across an article on thoughtcatalog, which is the shit and if you haven’t read their pieces, DO IT NOW, listing 10 reasons why 22 is the perfect age. The reasoning was genius. It was basically saying how if you don’t have two pennies to rub together right now and have no idea what the IRS really does, it’s totally fine. At 22, most people will forgive you for not understanding how the real world works.

3. It’s okay to not have it all figured out just yet. Whatever ‘it all’ is. Since you are probably a recent college grad, your family may give you gentle reminders about your future, but it hasn’t quite reached that pushy get-out-of-my-house-and-get-a-real-job phase. Cue the soul-searching.

Therefore, at 21, people should definitely forgive me for essentially crawling on my hands and knees when leaving work at 5 on the dot, right? I just want to get home and cuddle with Netflix. However, that forgiveness will only last for so long and when it runs out, when you get past that point where pre-22 becomes nonexistent, you have to enter adulthood, whether you like it or not.

4. Speaking of family, it is perfectly okay to live with your parents. Free rent and home-cooked meals? Holla. I mean, as long as you’re living under the pretense of ‘I’m working on nabbing my dream job in a couple years and will then find a humble abode of my own’ kind of thing.

I’m still at home with my family. And I’m completely okay with that. I don’t plan on moving out until I’m financially stable and able to rent without giving half of my paycheck away. Don’t worry, I’m not going to be there till I’m like 26, but 25.9 maybe? Kidding. (I love you, mom) But I don’t see the point of moving out right now or learning how to cook or understanding how taxes work. And the problem is that I seriously should. I burn pasta. Like literally forget to just stir it so it doesn’t stick and then minutes later it’s ruined and I’ve created some type of kindergarten macaroni catastrophe.

I keep delaying the inevitable. One day, Seamless will no longer be so inviting and that 2.00 delivery charge will make all the difference between ordering out and cooking up some pasta with that questionable marinara sauce in your cupboard.

However, I’m slowly realizing that although 22 may be the perfect age, it’s also the most stressful age. I never understood the meaning of a quarter-life crisis, until now. I’m trying my hardest to build up credit, so I’ve taken on my own car insurance, lease payments, and credit card. And it’s so much. I can’t even fully comprehend why I’m doing this, I’m just doing it because my mother is a finance freak and has taught me a few things about conserving and preparing for the future, financially. (At 20, you’ll listen to anything and believe it)

I’m only 21 and already freaking out, so one can only imagine how paranoid and stressed I will be at 22.

So, I need to learn how to cook. I feel as if once I conquer that, I can take control of being in my twenties, as ridiculous as that sounds. But cooking is one thing that I have put off for so long because I’ve never felt the need to. I feel like once I finally force myself to cook, I have to grow up, and that’s actually pretty terrifying to someone who has been using anti-wrinkle creams since she was 18. Therefore, I’ll tackle that first.

Till next time, y’all.

Also, can someone tell Taylor Swift that feeling 22 is stressful as all hell and not some indie-pop video with girls prancing around the beach. I mean, I do that, but I’m usually drunk because it distracts from the real issue at hand – worrying about whether that bikini will fit me ten years from now.

Shut up, you all do it.

*Currently trying to crawl out of my office. One step at a time, guys.

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