Why I Got Nothing Done Today, Told In The Style Of A Lying 8-Yr-Old

[Editor’s note:  Now with pirates!]

Embed from Getty Images


I really tried to take out the trash, I swear, just like I was supposed to.  But, see, right when I was emptying the trashcan into the bag, these pirates came in and just started, like, attacking the trash.  Every time I tried to throw something away, they would spear it, you know, with their swords, until their swords were all full of empty Lean Cuisine cartons and that old candy bar you said I shouldn’t eat.  Which I didn’t.  And then when I went to throw out the rest of the trash, some of the pirates snuck in front of me and hid all the rest of the trashcans so the other pirates wouldn’t find them, and I was so mad.  And then, and then, when I finally got everything in the trash bag and I was trying–no, really, I was!–to throw out the trash bag, the pirates, like, made me walk the plank!  And then while I was swimming back, they took all the trash and put it back in the trashcans, and they took all the trash bags with them so I couldn’t throw anything out, I swear, they really did.  It wasn’t my fault, you know, ’cause I could have fought the pirates if you hadn’t have took away my sword after Halloween.

Then I tried to clean the bathroom, ’cause I felt so bad about not being able to take out the trash.  And I turned on the faucet in the tub to, you know, get lots of water for the cleaning, and then, then this mermaid came out of the faucet and started splashing around in the water.  And she was getting water, you know, everywhere and I couldn’t get her to stop ’cause I don’t speak giant fish lady.  I tried, really, I did, but she only giggled and splashed even more, so I turned off the faucet and she just, you know, swam down the drain, and that’s why there’s water all over the bathroom.  It wasn’t my fault.  I didn’t know there was a mermaid in the faucet, I mean, there never was before. 

So then I was, you know, gonna vacuum the rugs.  But then, see, this monster came in ’cause it heard the vacuum, right, and it thought the vacuum was growling at it.  So the monster was trying to fight the vacuum, and every time I tried to push the vacuum onto one of the rugs, the monster would rush at me, and I had to run away.  And then, see, when I ran upstairs, the vacuum followed me, ’cause it was scared, and then the monster, you know, the monster followed the vacuum.  So then the vacuum and I tricked the monster into getting in the closet, and then we shut it in and stayed real quiet until it fell asleep.  But we couldn’t, you know, do any more vacuuming, ’cause then the monster would wake up.  I really tried, but the monster messed everything up, you know,  and anyway you should stop yelling ’cause I’m pretty sure it’s still up there.


Mom! Come do my dishes for me!

Unwashed dishes in a sink; an authentic situation.

Unwashed dishes in a sink; an authentic situation. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I suck at being a grownup.  I came to this realization yesterday as I looked around my apartment at all the chores I had to do:  wash the dishes, do the laundry, clean the bathroom, take out the trash, pay the bills, go grocery shopping, etc.  My mother would have already done most of these things and then would have done the rest without even thinking about it.  Me, I looked at funny pictures of cats for an hour and went to bed.

When I came home from work today, the dishes were still in the sink.  I don’t even remember using some of these dishes.  I don’t know how they got dirty.  I’m pretty sure some of them aren’t even mine.  It’s like the dishes come out and party while I’m at work, apparently getting into food fights with my glassware and cutlery, then collapse into the sink five minutes before I get home.  So I had to wash the dishes.  Or just eat off paper napkins for the rest of my life and never use my sink again, and don’t think I didn’t seriously consider that option.

And the laundry was still dirty.  This is when I fully understood that I will never be as good at adulthood as my mom.  Each item of clothing in my closet has different instructions for how to wash it, except for all my favorite clothes, which all read “Dry Clean Only.”  Everything else, though, has some unique combination of requirements such as “wash in room temperature water only with fabrics of like texture and color on alternate Tuesdays while playing the viola.”  My mom would learn how to play the viola.  I just throw everything into the same load, spin a few dials, and push the “wash” button.  Which explains a lot about the state of my wardrobe.

I did not take out the trash.  I don’t take out the trash until I can’t push it down any farther and the lid won’t close.  I also don’t clean out the refrigerator until there’s no room left and I don’t mop the floor until I’ve forgotten what color it is under the dirt.  I’m not going to tell you about the inside of my microwave, because I like you, and because it’s embarrassing. If there were some sort of practical exam we all had to pass before we were allowed into adulthood, not only would I fail, I would find a way to get negative points.  Of course, I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in that.  Maybe if they graded on a curve?

I’ll take out the trash tomorrow.  For now, I’m going to have a glass of wine.  Which I can do.  Because I’m a grown-up.  Yay!  I finally found a part of adulthood I’m good at.