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I'm Mad at Light Bulbs
Posted on June 18th, 2015


Some days (most days) I feel like I'm an adult-imposter.  On my very best days, I probably feel all of about 22 years old.  It's like I pulled one over on Adulthood.  I tiptoed in the door unnoticed.  And every now and then I do or say something very Adult and they let me stick around.  It's enough to make me seem like I fit for just a little bit longer.  I've learned to blend.

Anyone else ever feel this way?  Maybe it's just me.

So I've spent the past month or so thinking about this and I am very aware of when I am doing something that qualifies me to be this thirty-something that I am.  I've come up with a few things that I do, say, think, or feel that let me know I, in fact, do belong in Adulthood.  These are things that, if I hopped in my Delorean to visit my 18-year-old self, my 18-year-old self would stare at thirty-something me like I was speaking a foreign language (and probably point her finger at me and laugh rudely).

I have an extensive collection of light bulbs and I'm mad at them.  When we became home owners about nine years ago, I started my light bulb stash.  It is impressive.  I have on hand pretty much any wattage of light bulb you could need, in any size, for any purpose.  Fridge light out?  I've got it covered.  The weird lamp in the bedroom that only takes a certain size?  I have three bulbs ready and waiting.  Nightlight bulbs, flashlight bulbs, Christmas light bulbs.  I even took my little light bulb obsession to the realm of car maintenance.  As we speak, I can tell you I have an extra fog light for my car in a box in my garage.  Can you say that?  I know.  Prepared.  So, for the light bulb collection alone I can guarantee my 18-year-old self would call me lame. 

But to take the lame to a new level, I can also report that I am currently mad at the light bulb industry (and apparently the government?) for taking away incandescent bulbs.  Seriously, the new "better" (and I am using that word very sarcastically in case the quotation marks weren't clear enough) and "more efficient" (again with the sarcasm) light bulbs burn out EVEN QUICKER than the old incandescents.  AND THEY ARE QUADRUPLE THE PRICE.  Listen up, government...if you are reading this I am going to go ahead and tell you that at this moment I could care less about energy conservation.  I want my old light bulbs back.  Every time I have to change a bulb (which is often), I get mad all over again.  I just changed a bulb two weeks ago in my utility room.  IT IS NOW OUT.  And this one requires a ladder to change.  Extra work.  Thanks again, government.  Your new light bulbs are crap.

See?  Light bulb rants.  This would qualify me for levels of lameness my 18-year-old self didn't even know existed.  Adult.  Boom.

Pressure washing relaxes me.  I can't explain it, but I get a thrill out of pressure washing any and every surface I can find at my house.  It's like reverse coloring.  It's fantastic.  I'm pretty sure 18-year-old Lindsey couldn't have told you what a pressure washer even was.  And now I own one.  And I use it.  Often.  And enjoy it.  (Stop being jealous of my exciting life.  Not everyone can be this cool.)

Car repair and maintenance bills.  There was a glorious time period in my life when my car broke down or was otherwise compromised (ahem...I may or may not have a small handful of fender-benders on my driving record) and all I had to do was call my dad.  All I knew back then was that my car showed back up as good as new a day or few later.  And probably had a full tank of gas waiting for me.  Well.  Now I know.  There is nothing like forking over $800 for TIRES that will let you know that you are, in fact, Adulting.  Car repair bills are among my least favorite ways to spend money.  (Word to the wise.  When you are shopping for a new vehicle, buy one with a standard-size wheel or you will cry every year while swiping your debit for $800.  Adults aren't supposed to cry in public about money, in case you are working on being Adult.)

I know how to treat various laundry stains.  This was not so when I was 18.  Back then, I brought my laundry home because my mom is a true Adult and she knew all about laundry stain removal.  Even after I was married and doing my own laundry, I just threw everything in and washed it cold.  Now I can tell you how to get grass stains to disappear, just what to do with a blood stain, and how heat will "set" a stain.  What happened?  Adulthood.   

Jaywalkers.  There was a day when I was one of these delinquents myself.  And I didn't even bat an eye.  I was a pedestrian!  I had the right of way!  (Good grief.)  I am now the person that will stop, roll down my window, and request that these people kindly use the cross walk that is less than 50 feet away.  I'm sure I've gotten more eye rolls and mumbled obscenities from annoyed teens than anyone I know.  On a related note, I will also call out anyone who is openly cursing or being inappropriate around my children.  A few close friends know my tendency to be a bit outspoken and bossy about these things.  Good thing I'm channeling my passion toward Very Important Things like jaywalking, public cursing, and people who violate the city smoking ordinance. 

I own a Dustbuster and use it daily.  Multiple times a day, in fact.  Well, actually, let's be real.  Most people who have been to my house or my office know that I need things tidy.  (Further details about this are for another post, for another day.)   I was this way when I was 18 and I'm still this way.  But...I now have a TOP-OF-THE-LINE, premium, extra suction, extra-large dustbin capacity Dustbuster that I adore.  (It is very Adult to adore a cleaning tool, if you didn't know.)  It is hanging in my laundry room, always plugged in and charged, always ready.  It's like my Adult Superpower.  A mess can be made in my house and before you can say, "Where's the broom?" I have that mess sucked up, sanitized, and Dustbuster back in the cradle.  A mere memory of the mess is left when someone comes stumbling in the room with a dustpan. 

Neighborhood hooligans and shenanigans.  If you are Facebook friends with John and I, you might remember a few of our neighborhood kid incidents.  There were the freeloaders who were stealing our WiFi.  WiFi passwords are super Adult.  Then there are the Doorbell Ringer Bandits.  You might remember that excitement from last summer.  If you are a neighborhood rascal, your momma will be called and/or Old Lady Kennon will stop you in the street and ask where you live and follow you home to have a chat with your daddy.  (See my point about Jaywalking to remind yourself of my tendency to call people out.  Middle schoolers are especially not exempt from me.)  Basically, we either feel 22 or 97 around here on any given day. 

And that one thing I cannot remember.  Here's undeniable proof that I'm no longer 18.  I thought of a really great point to make about being an Adult.  That was about ten minutes ago.  And I cannot remember it even a little bit.  I even retraced my steps back to when I thought about it, like Dr. Huxtable made Vanessa do when she lost her history paper and she found it in the freezer.  I opened my freezer but didn't find the idea.  I have random notes in my phone that say things like "meet at 10:30" or "check the box before Thursday"  or a random phone number with no name.  I have no idea what these notes mean but I'm afraid to delete them in case they are important.  I don't even remember what my reminders are telling me.  I even have a note that just says "nebulous" and I have no clue why.  (How's that for irony?)  My memory used to be outstanding.  Now it's not.  Adult.

So there you have it.  I'm sure there are lots more but I'll stop there because 1) bad memory, and 2) I need a nap.  Clearly, the evidence speaks for itself.  I am not 22, but I still have my doubts.  For instance...I just ate slices of cheddar cheese and leftover bacon for lunch.  I'm no nutritionist, but that is only two food groups.  We also regularly consume Pop Tarts and fruit roll-ups around here.  Some people at work like to call me "Kiddo".  I still tend to procrastinate quite a bit.  I never have more than $1.13 in cash in my wallet.  And I could still sleep til 2:00 p.m. if my kids and husband would let me.  I have never once heard anyone call my dad "kiddo" and he always has at least $20 in cash on hand.  Just sayin'.

Basically, this whole thing has just got me thinking about "seasons" and how God places us where we are, when he wants us there, whether or not we feel qualified to be there.  And oh my, the lessons He teaches along the way.  I'm sure when I'm 50 (Which now seems kinda young to me!  What is happening?!) I'll look back on these thirty-something years (and this post) and laugh.  And think about all I've learned throughout these passing seasons.  Thank the Lord I'm no longer the narcissistic, impulsive, idiot that I was at 18.  Good gracious, just the jaywalking alone is enough to make me not want to revisit those times.  Maybe one of these days I'll start feeling my age.  For now, I'm going to go grab my Dustbuster and clean up the toddler mess left from lunch and start laundry.  (VERY Adult!)  I'm going to eat some icing right out of the can first, though.  (Very College Girl.  See why I'm confused?)

In case you'd like to see Dr. Huxtable in action again, I've included a link to the scene where he helps Vanessa find her paper.  See below.

And for Pete's sake.  Let's all write our representatives about this light bulb situation before I have to enroll myself in anger management.

How old do YOU feel?  Feel free to leave some comments to make me feel better about being in Adult Limbo.  ((Disclaimer...if you are 18, 22, 50, 60, or 97 please know that I think you are lovely people.  Please don't think my post is in any way knocking you.  Not every 60-something is an old toot and not every 18-year-old is a jaywalking idiot.  Probably.))



Posted in Everyday Life    Tagged with Adulthood, Thirty-Something, Real Life, Seasons of Life


10 Comments

Jan Richardson - June 18th, 2015 at 4:38 PM
Lindsey, you never fail to make me laugh! I'm 41 and there are days when I feel as though there is no way I could be old enough to actually have an adult child because I'm quite certain I haven't figured out this adult thing yet, either. So, no, you're not the only one who feels like an imposter :)
Lindsey - June 18th, 2015 at 8:03 PM
Ha! I'm sure I'll be saying the same thing in a few years when Carson starts down that road! :) Thanks for making me feel normal!

Dana - June 18th, 2015 at 6:04 PM
Enjoying your writing, Lindsey. I agree about the bulbs. They aren't as bright, either. And I often think about when I thought people my age were old.... HA! I'm not old!
Lindsey - June 18th, 2015 at 8:05 PM
Thank you, Dana! Your compliment means so much! Exactly right on the bulbs and the age! I did some calculating the other day and realized I'm nearly closer to 50 than I now am to 20. So, 50 is the new 30 is where I'm going with that. :) Thanks for reading!

Bren Hopkins - June 18th, 2015 at 6:08 PM
This was so hilarious!! I am 52 and sometimes feel 18 with how I handle some situations. Then there are those times when I feel like a mean old grandma! Lol. Keep up the writing sweet friend!
Lindsey - June 18th, 2015 at 8:06 PM
Haha! Yes! I knew I couldn't be the only one. Thank you for being one of my biggest cheerleaders Ms. Bren! Love you!
Lindsey - June 18th, 2015 at 8:06 PM
Haha! Yes! I knew I couldn't be the only one. Thank you for being one of my biggest cheerleaders Ms. Bren! Love you!
Roni Lias - June 19th, 2015 at 9:29 AM
Love your writing, Lindsey!! Steve & I regularly have this conversation about " being" adults while mostly never "feeling" like adults, and oftentimes not "acting" like adults... and we are both rapidly approaching 50! Ha-ha! %uD83D%uDE09
Lindsey - June 19th, 2015 at 9:38 AM
Roni, thank you so much! I was just thinking about you the other day :) Hope you are well. Thank you for validating my feelings. Haha! I respect you and Steve a ton, so this is double validation. Thank you for reading!
Becky - September 7th, 2015 at 6:34 AM
I agree with everyone. Your writing makes me smile & laugh...a lot. Two things I love to do!

In my mind, my body can still do the same activities that I could when I was 18. In my mind, I have zero doubt that I can exercise as far and as fast as I could (almost) 20 years ago. And then... my "VERY Adult" body tells my 18 year old mind to wake up from my dream.
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