The Time I Tried to Adult and Failed Miserably.
By BrotherKris

I decided it was finally time to become a responsible adult. I bought a leather-bound planner, set up a “morning routine,” and even downloaded a meal prep app.
Day one, I made oatmeal. Simple, right? Wrong. Somehow I managed to set off the fire alarm, blackened the oats into charcoal bricks, and triggered a minor smoke emergency that caused my dog to file a formal complaint by barking angrily for three hours straight.

Determined, I moved on to groceries. I entered the store with confidence, cart at the ready. By the time I reached the checkout, I had only three items: a loaf of bread, a cucumber, and a decorative cheese shaped like a unicorn. Somehow, I forgot eggs. My meticulously planned “balanced diet” now consisted of unicorn cheese for breakfast, sadness for lunch, and regret for dinner.

Next came bills. I attempted to pay them online. Mistyped my account number. Suddenly, my electricity provider thought I lived in Antarctica. My internet provider started sending me “penguin-friendly browsing tips,” and a motivational newsletter titled “Do You Waddle with Purpose?”
I stared at my computer in disbelief while my dog—who had somehow become a life coach—stared back knowingly.

Laundry was a disaster. Socks fused with shirts, forming grotesque hybrid garments. I named one creation “Sock-Shirt 3000” and wore it proudly.
My cat gave me a judgmental glare from atop the bookshelf. My dog barked in encouragement, so I considered it a win.

Then came furniture assembly. I followed the instructions for a “simple” IKEA bookshelf. Three hours later, I was trapped inside it like a human origami sculpture.
I called for help. My neighbor arrived and laughed so hard he almost needed a first aid kit for his ribs.
I finally freed myself, bruised but enlightened: adulthood is just a series of small humiliations dressed as “responsibility.”

By the weekend, I tried “self-care.” A bubble bath seemed like a safe choice.
I dropped the soap, slipped, and somehow managed to catapult a rubber duck directly into the ceiling light.
Sparks flew, water splashed, and my dog executed a perfect dive for safety.

Moral of the Story: Adulthood is a series of small humiliations disguised as “responsibility,” coffee is a lie, and dogs are secretly better at life than humans.😂

Edited October 18Oct 18 by BrotherKris

Every morning my 5yo wakes up Screaming "HELP, HELP, IM AWAKE.!"
and i just think to myself, Yerh we can all relate to that