Mildly Independent.

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I like to consider myself mildly independent. I can handle things on my own and know when to call for help. I can check my oil, can take the car in when it needs oil, I can fill a mildly low tire with air. I can do things for myself. It’s what being an adult is right? That’s what I’ve heard at least. Isn’t being an adult completely overrated? Like one day, I’m just enjoying some Disney VHSs and a juice box and the next day I’m deciding how much to pay back on my student loan and planning to travel half way across the world by myself. And let’s be honest, that has been my life. I do watch Disney VHSs and drink juice boxes and I am paying back my student loans and traveling by myself. And a person is never to old to enjoy a nice refreshing juice box. If there hasn’t been one invented, someone should invent little boxed alcohol. I know there’s boxed wine but seriously, other alcohol in travel size. I’m not an alcoholic. It’s just a thought. And talking about adult things, being married came up again the other night at work. Now, I’m single. I’m okay with that at this point because I have a lot going on. Ask me again in like 2 months, my opinion might change. But honestly, this is like the fourth time this, and by “this” I mean marriage, has come up at work in the past 2 months. Yeah, overkill on the subject? Yes. That averages a marriage bring up every 2 weeks. Who says I’m adult enough for marriage? Not me, most the time I’m kind of like a 5-year-old at home. Didn’t you just read about my juice box and Disney binges? My sarcasm sometimes suggests other ages. So in all honesty, my age is up for debate.

Anyway, last night, I get off of work at like 9:30 and I’m pumped to be leaving work that early and so I walk out to my car, turn it on, make sure my music isn’t to loud to wake the dead and I pull away. Almost immediately I know I have a flat tire. And not just a flat tire that can be fixed with a little air, a majorly flat tire that would demand me to put a lot of air in it. I know that I live in a small town, with not so many options, I call my parents. There’s a reason for me not just filling the tire. I know it needs to fixed and because I don’t know how to change a tire. This is the second time that this has happened since I moved home so I called mom and dad and told them what was going on and where I was parked. So okay, they’re on their way to help me. Now I was expecting my mom to pop in with the car to help me. Nope, it was my daddy with the pickum-up-truck. Or the pickup, which ever you want to call it. And he changes my tire. Not only do my father and I share a sense of humor, he comes and saves the day by changing my tire. And to top it all off, it started to rain, making life that more dramatic. Because let’s face it, rain makes things dramatic. Even if it is just a sprinkle.

I know that there is nothing wrong with asking for help and not everyone knows how to change a tire, but in a weird way it feels like my mild independence is gone. I have survived out of my parents’ house for almost 8 years and then I need help with getting a tire off and replace it. Even though, I live in a very small town, I should have figured out a different solution or figured out how to change it myself….but my mommy and daddy like me…..

So this morning I dyed Easter eggs. Pretty excited about that. For no reason because most of those eggs are going into a potato salad my mother has all ready made. So there was no joy other than spending time with the niece and nephew this morning in this. No cracking the shell or anything. Disappointing. The other day my nephew was here and was going to leave. I asked for a hug. “Yeah, first Grandpa, then Grandma and then you. Save the best for last.” If only I could love that child a little more. I also came to the conclusion that even though I love the niece to bits, she is a loud child. Like you can’t hear yourself think when she’s in the vicinity. Did not get that from my side of the family. Those kids do keep me young. Maybe that’s why there’s such a debate on my age in my head.

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