Last weekend, Liz (who is Cazey's and my other roommate and will one day be featured in a blog post, "Living with Liz") and I had a very adult day. In the morning, we toured two units that we're looking to buy. Okay, fine -- we're not looking to buy it, her parents are, but we're the feet on the street to go see the apartments as they open. Then in the afternoon we went car shopping. That was for me. One day I'll buy a new car. Poor Taurus is getting on in years.

Anyway, I went into work that Monday and reported to everyone at work how adult I was. You know, because I went shopping for big purchases. Then I came home and was telling Liz about how I told everyone about our weekend, which she also did. And we had a realization:

We must not be THAT adult if we report to people how adult we acted that weekend.

It basically negates how adult I was because I had to brag about it. Adults are usually just adults without having to prove it.

Then I slowly began to unravel other instances that I'm acting like an adult without really committing to it:

• I have a 401(k) and the adviser on our account sincerely apologized that during our blackout period we won't be able to monitor our account like we usually do. At this time, I had never once actually looked to see how my 401(k) plan was doing.
• Once I realized I never checked on my 401(k), I realized I should check on my Roth. I call to check on my Roth, and the woman wouldn't let me even put my own money into my account because apparently she doesn't trust my adulting.
• Then I thought about my stocks I have. I have them saved to my stocks app on my phone, and I have never actually checked them.
• Regardless of not checking them, I also have no idea what price I bought them at so I wouldn't know if they were doing well anyway.
• I get emails about dividends and earnings in my inbox. That's SO adult. Until I admit I've never opened a single one.
• I plan out my grocery shopping: pick out a few recipes, write what I need down on a piece of paper (it feels more authentic) and head to the store. Then I get there and buy a few frozen meals, yogurt, bagged salad and oatmeal instead. It's way easier.
• I get back from my shopping trip only to complain about how I don't have enough food.
• I plan PTO for vacations, but don't make any accommodations or itinerary until two weeks before we go.
• I think I'm totally independent from my parents: I pay for everything. No, wait -- I don't pay my cell phone bill. Nor do I really intend to anytime soon. Possibly ever.
• I'm in the market for a car, but I'm only test-driving cars my parents or friends tell me to. Liz's brother even gave me a list of questions to ask.
• After every time I test-drive a car, I call my parents to get them to tell me what to do next.
• I talk a lot about test-driving cars, but I've actually only test-driven four cars.

I've definitely confirmed it with myself: I'm half-assing adulthood. I do a pretty good job at about 50% of it, then somehow lose my momentum for being a responsible adult.

Other blog posts you might like:

• On Defining Adulthood
• 20 Times I Knew I Must be an Adult
• New Sleep Recommendations Mean What?