Busy, Busy, Busy

The thing that has most surprised me about adulthood is how much time I spend dealing with stupid crap.

I am constantly filling out forms, waiting on hold, standing in line.

And the end result is never anything fun. Oh, joy, my car’s emissions sticker is up-to-date. Or, yay, my taxes are done.

And don’t even get me started about when you need something notarized.

In contrast, the only time I stood in line when I was a kid was to see Santa or ride the pony.

And I worry about the stupid crap. You have to. Bad things happen when you forget to pay your taxes or update your emissions sticker.

Around our house, the fines and charges you get hit with for forgetting or being late are known as “a tax for being stupid.”

Everybody, from your accountant to the guy who maintains your A/C to your dentist, tells you stuff to do and dates to remember – and they act like what they’re asking you for is oh-so-simple.

It would be, if theirs wasn’t one of literally thousands of picky, little, stupid things.

Our garage-door opener hasn’t worked for months. Our washing machine won’t spin unless you remember, mid-cycle, to lift the lid and slam it down. (Kicking the machine and swearing at it also help.) I need to call an oral surgeon about my daughter’s wisdom teeth. I need to set up my new laptop. (My old one died, taking Outlook, which I was using to keep track of all this crap, with it. Actually, good riddance to Outlook, but now I have to set up and learn new software. Oh, joy.)

I look at each of these things and think, “Oh, there’s about 4, 6, 8, 10+ hours of my life.”

Bleh.