So This Is Adulthood

I am a big fan of getting older. I've wanted to be 30 for at least a decade. 30 always sounded so grown-up, as if the world would suddenly crack open and make sense. I'm approaching 29 and I assume no life-shattering truths will be revealed on my birthday either this year or next. But I imagine quasi-adulthood (am I a full blown adulthood yet?) has its ebbs and flows like any other process. Moments of "Yes! I can do this!" coupled with moments of "My life is completely stupid!"

Tonight included one of the latter, tomorrow morning, I hope, will include one of the former.

I took the trash out tonight in slip-on shoes, sweatpants, and a tshirt. It's 30 degrees outside but the dumpster sits just behind my building and I was too lazy to grab my coat. I grabbed the trash and my keys (my building locks automatically when the door closes) and slipped down the hall, out the door, to the dumpster. I then tossed said trash into the dumpster as well as my keys. A string of curse words might have ensued. I had to climb into the dumpster (which is not an open dumpster, you have to hold open the lid while you climb in and this is really tricky) in my tiny, unhelpful shoes, in the dark and feel around for several minutes for my keys. After a couple minutes one of my neighbors came out to throw his trash away, only to find me cussing and shivering, digging through trash. He was kind enough to hold the lid open for me and was about to climb in to help me (bless him!) when I found the little buggers. He helped me climb out and I returned to my apartment smelling like pizza, laundry detergent, and diapers. This was a moment in which my life felt completely, ridiculously stupid.

But early tomorrow morning we're supposed to have a meteor shower. I always try to get up early to watch them when they're predicted, even though I live in a city and I know the chances of spotting even one are slim. I saw a falling star in Morocco once, on a night that I slept on a roof on the outskirts of the Sahara. It was Thanksgiving Day 2002, I had turned 22 and celebrated with a pseudo-carrot cake baked in an ornery butane oven. We slept on the roof overlooking date palms and I will never adequately describe that sky. The falling star was perfect, and so quick that when I asked my friends if they'd seen it, they said no. A blink or a nod of the head and you'd have lost it. I've always wanted to see another but never have. I don't mind if I don't see it tomorrow morning. I'm sure I'll find one eventually, probably, hopefully, when I least expect it. But I still get up to watch them if I can, if I learn of some shower making its presence known in the Northern Hemisphere. I'm practicing my falling star-spotting, I guess.

And that fits nicely in the "Yes! I can do this!" category.