Dudes, there is nothing like a matching set of overpriced fluffy as hell towels that you personally, intentionally fold and artfully hang in your bathroom. Sometimes I stare at my bathroom (when it’s actually, you know, clean) and just feel so damn proud of how…real and grown up it looks. I just want to bring everyone who happens to come into my house over and show them, point at it and go, “Look how much of an adult I am! My bathroom is color coordinated! I spent way too much on those towels but they feel like the purest unicorn fur when I run them across my body and they match the fucking curtains!”
I don’t do this…but I want to. Man, do I want to.
So basically, towels, but for your bed, and you know, less absorbent I guess. I think it’s pretty common knowledge that freshly cleaned sheets is one of the best things in the world (especially when combined with freshly shaven legs…mmmm) but this is further improved if the thread count is high (another important yet menial part of adulting happens to be understanding the importance of thread count, or at least pretending you do) and if they match the window curtains and rug. Toss in some useless pillows with rhinestones that could literally poke your eye out if you laid on it, and your metamorphosis is complete.
3. Couch pillows (or just pillows in general)
Never underestimate the power of a new pillow (minus the rhinestones) on your bed. It’s like resting your weary adult head on a beautiful sea of golden clouds. Also, there is something horribly satisfying about finding pillows that match your cheap second-hand couch somewhere and then victoriously arranging them on said shitty couch. Look at that ascetic! Look at that decorative freaking comfort! LOOK AT IT!!
Now buy an afghan and call it a day, you’ve done it: Ultimate Adulthood level reached!
4. Kitchen stuff
If someone told me at fourteen that I would be over-the-moon excited about a big electric mixer and a set of matching spatulas on Christmas morning, I would have thrown my emo-punk rock music collection directly in their faces. Then I probably would have run to my room and written really shitty poetry about the darkness in my heart, or something.
But I didn’t. Because guys, kitchen stuff is the bomb.com.
Am I the only person who still feels weirdly like an imposter when perusing the whiskey section? Like my grandmother is going to come barreling around the corner and beat me with a wooden cooking spoon or something. There’s this weird sensation of getting away with something every time I make it through the checkout line and I just kind of look at my booze collection on top of the fridge when I get home and think –yes, yes I am a grown human with mind-addling liquids of my own, admire me!
And okay, so I don’t actually drink it most of the time. But it’s the idea behind it that counts, right? Right.
Recently I got legitimately and disgustingly excited about buying a really ‘cool’ set of silverware at the store impromptu one day. Down with the sporks and in with the good stuff, baby!
8. Stuff that smells good
Laundry detergent, dryer sheets, air fresheners, wax-melty-thingys, candles, bath bombs, soap –God, I just want all the best smells in the world and I want to put them directly in my house all the time for always and forever and ever. Consequently I have way more air fresheners than any human being could possibly go through in three life times.
I’m now picturing my grandchildren unearthing a box of Febreeze bottles and passing them down to their children very ceremoniously (do those things have an expiration date? Huh, I wonder.)
9. Wine glasses
There is just something about those wine glasses, man. They instantly adult the shit out of my evening, even if I’m drinking chocolate milk out of them. Like, I feel the need to play classical music and sit near a fire (in the middle of an Arizona summer) while reading poetry to my dogs… or something.
10. Buying a whole cake for no reason
This is not something I do often (I’ve only done it twice), but let me tell you, it was worth it. There is something powerful about the realization that you can quite literally mosey on down to your local grocery store and buy a cake for no reason other than that you really want cake. It could even say freaking ‘Happy Birthday!’ on it and it wouldn’t matter, because no one is going to care, no one is going to question you. Then you can take yourself back home and eat it, eat it all, every piece, you don’t have to share with a single person, and no one is going to yell at you.
That’s a true taste of freedom, my friend.
QOTD: What are some of the things you get weirdly excited about buying?