Adulthood vs. Fauxdulthood

Adulthood (n): having attained full size and strength; grown up; mature; a person who is fully grown

Fauxdulthood (n): having attained college degree in the past 36 months; one who lives in own dwelling with bills; having attained full-time employment; typically resides in town or city far from parental units

Your current thoughts (n): "What is this girl on?!"

I'm on nothing, actually. But that's what fauxdulthood does to you. It makes you think up weird things while you do fauxdulthood-like things, including (but not limited to): grocery shopping, paying your bills online, reviewing your 401K statement, standing in the elevator at work, cleaning your bathtub, and even updating your budget spreadsheet.  Yep, that's right. Amidst your over analysis of all your new responsibilities, you even think up idiotic terms like fauxdulthood.

"Wait, I still don't get it."

Okay, sparky. I'll break it down: faux=fake/imitation + adulthood (I refuse to retype the definition)=fauxdulthood. That awkward time after you've graduated college, get a full-time job, snag your own place, pay your own bills, have your own health insurance. So why is this "faux?" Sounds pretty damn real, right? Well, not really. Even if you are becoming an "adult," by societal standards, many fauxdults don't really feel like or want to be true adults. We equate adulthood to the likes of our parents. Fauxdults enjoy the best of both worlds: relentless post-work happy hours, wasting your excruciatingly budgeted money on cute new outfits and dinner out; going out on Saturday night and acting like you're still in college, spur-of-the-moment weekend getaway trips; still asking/needing/desperate for your parents' advice for way too many things.

I must preface this inaugural blog post with the truth: I really don't like blogging. I started a blog when I moved to DC, but couldn't get into the groove of rehashing my days and experiences (helloooo just check out my most recent FB photo album, peeps). I also considered the blogs I keep up with of those who I don't even really know. Would it be creepy that random people could read how I felt about my first day of work and what I did on Saturday night? (Yes.) So that's why I'm blogging on a topic--a "how to" to fauxdulthood, particularly in DC. Or maybe this is really just my ramblings of my life and the mostly entertaining changes this new life throws at me every day.

OK, enough with the boring obligatory introductions. Yesterday and today, I really epitomized fauxdulthood. How? Well, this case started with a dirty rug and cat litter.

I've been putting off buying a vacuum since I moved into my new place in May. I mean, really, vacuums are so overpriced. I could think of so many better ways to spend $50 (e.g. a cute new dress, five meals out at Chipotle, a round trip on the Megabus) than a freaking Dirt Devil. Besides, I had a SWIFFER (thanks, mom), so why the crap did I ALSO need a vacuum? I only have two rugs. I'll survive.

Except I didn't survive. My rugs became so dirty they caught fire and my apartment burned down. Not really, but they got really freaky dirty. Sophie enjoys pulling apart the black cover on my body pillow and depositing the fuzzy bits all over the floor of my apartment. She also likes to create a beach-feel in the bathroom (where her litter box is located) by spreading her litter throughout the room. Nothing feels better than stepping out of the shower and crunching down on kitty litter.

So I caved. I even did my research and looked up the most affordable but quality vacuums online. Target is basically the only mass retail store around in my neighborhood/in decent Metro distance, so I  went to my second home after work to purchase this item. After griping with an employee because my pre-researched selection was more expensive in the store, I gave up and bought the stupid Dirt Devil that was still on sale. I decided to embrace my true fauxdulthood (and diminish my collegiate inclination) and choose the all-black vacuum instead of the colorful magenta/purple toned vacuum that would really bring some nice color to my apartment.

What do you do in DC when you buy a vacuum but don't have a car? Duhzzz, carry it all the way home, of course! I remember daydreaming in high school about the day I would have the chance to lug home a huge vacuum cleaner box in 102 degree heat for a 15-minute walk home in an itchy dress I wore to work! I'm glad my dreams finally came true on this day.

This particular vacuum was marketed as "lightweight!" but this takes false advertising to a whole new level. The box should've read: "Made of lead! Feels heavier than your couch! BUY ME!" So I lugged the box all the way to my apartment, ignoring the stares of everyone who walked by me glaring at the box in fascination. Seriously, who knew a freaking vacuum could warrant such attention? It was like everyone walking by me was thinking, "Wowza, what is that alien-like device?" or "I've never seen a person carry a box before!" (Read: "Why the hell is that girl sweating so much?")

I finally got home and literally slammed the box down on my hardwood floor. Probably not the best idea for the new equipment, I later thought to myself. In anticipation to have the best looking floors in DC, I unloaded my fancy new vacuum, "put it together," (if you know me, you know why that deserves quotes), and hopped to it. Can I just say, da-yumm does my carpet look good.  Yeah???

Sophie thought so much too, that she decided to sprinkle more pillow shreddings on the carpet just to watch me vacuum it again. But first, she needed to examine her new kitty condo:

My fauxdulthood continued this evening when I got home from work and checked my mailbox.

The contents of my mailbox in college: Dominoes flyer, depressing on-campus job paycheck, letter from university housing about next year, and a coupon for 20% off an ASU sweatshirt.

The contents of my mailbox after college (a.k.a. today): a new copy of my health insurance card, two letters about my college loan repayments, a letter outlining my 401K plan, a utility bill, and a packet outlining health insurance plan coverage.

Cool beans. Thank God there was also a new edition of my coveted US Weekly celebrity news magazine. Otherwise, I think I'd go insane. Or, worse, write an entire blog post about a new vacuum and what's in my mailbox.