1. I have never once successfully folded any type of bed linen, fitted or otherwise, which is why I tend to avoid washing my sheets altogether, and also why my bedroom constantly smells like someone just microwaved a bag of popcorn.
2. I don’t know what a retirement plan is. I don’t know what 401(k) means or why the k is always hiding in those parentheses. I don’t know what “escrow” is, or if that has anything to do with retirement, but I feel like it does because adults are always using these words together. I don’t know what a certified public accountant is supposed to do besides wear short-sleeve button-downs and wire-rimmed glasses. I don’t know anything about the national debt. And I don’t get why so many elderly people in Florida are allowed to vote.
3. I order food for delivery every single day of the week, sometimes twice in one day if it’s a special occasion, like Thanksgiving or a Saturday, and more often than not, it’s only because I want a slice of chocolate fudge layer cake and I have to pretend like I’m ordering a full meal around it and not just paying for someone to bring me a single container of frosted sugar.
4. I don’t think I could keep a baby alive by myself for more than maybe forty minutes, mostly because I know you’re supposed to rock babies back and forth, but I don’t know how hard to rock them before the rocking would be considered violent shaking and I know that’s how Lenny killed that woman in the book about the rabbits.
5. I’ve only really cleaned my bathroom once in the last year, mostly because I don’t know how often you’re supposed to clean a bathroom, since once a week seems like too often, and so does once every two weeks. By the third week it’s too disgusting to even look at, and if I tried to clean it, I’d probably just throw up and make it all worse anyway, so might as well just wait until I move out or the entire apartment building burns down.
6. I don’t know how to butter toast without ripping a ragged hole through the center of the slice every single time, and then all I have for breakfast is a hot piece of bread with a giant butter hole in the middle, which is generally why I avoid attempting to prepare food for myself at all costs.
7. I’m terrible at gift-giving, which is sort of a test of how good you are at being a competent adult sufficient in sustaining relationships with other competent adults. I mean, even cats give gifts, even though their gifts are usually mouse carcasses, but at least they put some thought into it. The best I can do is an Applebee’s gift card I bought at CVS.
8. I’m fairly certain that there’s a dead mouse behind my bed, but I’m too afraid to move my mattress and confirm it, because as long as it’s not confirmed there’s at least a possibility that there isn’t a dead mouse lying inches away from my face while I sleep.
9. I’m self-destructive, but not in the dramatic way that drug addicts on CSI are. Like, I’ve never snorted cocaine off a stripper’s dick before, or any other body part for that matter. But I’m still slowly destroying myself. I routinely finish an entire box of soft-baked chocolate chip cookies in one sitting, and I haven’t exercised since one of the Bushes was president.
10. I don’t know what my bra size is.