"I really shouldn't be buying these..." I said to myself as I picked up a packet of Milano cookies at the local Wal-Mart. These tasty little cookies had always been something I had deemed "too-pricey" for my treat category and had always secretly desired them but never actually bought them. I mean, how could a small packet of cookies cost five dollars. Were they magic cookies? Did they come with small gold nuggets? Were they being endorsed by Oprah? Better yet, she should make an appearance when you open the package. "Well, I guess it is in my budget to try them..."
The cookies were packed in my backpack along with the other spoils from the grocery store and I made my way back to my apartment. By the time I opened my door, everything was dark out leaving me to have my hands crawl along the wall looking for a light switch. Find it find it quick! With a switch of the light, I set down my groceries and quickly went back to the door to fasten the dead bolt. The small click I heard meant I would live another day.
Recently, my friend Beth sent me a link to a series of scary and bizarre stories (66 stories to be exact). Normally I really like being scared, but like most things that I do I tend to over-think them. One scary story gives me a smile. Twenty makes me begin to check the locks on the windows. Forty and I've locked myself in my room hiding underneath the blankets. I start to hear sounds I've normally heard (plumbing, creaking, neighbors fighting) and now they've become sinister. Around every corner was death of some kind and there was no way to escape it.
This continued for a few days. Me going to bed, double-checking everything to make sure no people-face-wearing murderers were lurking behind my couch or hiding under my bed. Each day I'd chip away at some of the Milano cookies as well. Why would anyone buy these? There just aren't enough, even if they are pretty good. I was forcing myself to ration these cookies believing that I would never actually buy them again. What was stopping me though? Nothing.
As I lay in bed one night listening to the sounds of a murderer scratching on my door, I came to the weird realization that this was my adult life. Never before had I been allowed to "splurge" on name-brand cookies just to see what they really tasted like. Never before had I had enough time to eat these cookies and then worry about if I was going to live to see the next day.
In my head, adulthood was a phase that I was going to reach with some sort of obvious "Ah-ha!" moment. It was going to be something special like me renting my first car, having an embossed business card, or realizing I pay too much for cable; it was supposed to be special.
Really, I wanted it to be special. I wanted there to be one specific moment that I would be able to pass on to younger generations and really be able to give them some wisdom. "You know, Tiny Tim, the first moment I knew I was a real adult was when I helped my friend hide the body of that asphyxiated stripper." I'd get my adult card in the mail and adult magazine would arrive at my house every month...not that kind of magazine.
But that wasn't how it turned out. Without thinking, I jumped into the fast lane of adulthood by buying five dollar cookies. Now I have to acknowledge my cookie choices and start worrying about when I'll pay too much for cable (which won't be soon considering I don't own a TV). What else do adults do? Wash their hair every other day? Make investments? Buy three dollar cookies?
All these important decisions and here I was, stuck with my 5 dollar cookies on a road to destruction. This was what adult life was going to be like: worrying about irrational things like expensive designer cookies while there are real problems like a man with chainsaws for hands in my closet.
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