Growing up is hard to do

At 12, I wanted to be 16. When I turned 16, I was ready for 21. I've been in a hurry to be older all my life. I wanted my driver's license, the right to vote and the ability to legally go into a bar.

Now at 22, I'm ready to slow down. No need to rush. I enjoy life at this cruise control and wouldn't mind slowing.

The thing is, growing up comes with consequences. Paying bills. Yeah, it hurts to see your pay check disappear. Being oblivious to the world around us. I'm jealous of 5-year-olds.

What really gets me, though, about my digits is this: having to do laundry. When I went to college, it became my responsibility. It's the worst chore ever. I prefer doing dishes over laundry. But the washing, drying, folding and ironing. Yuck. If I were rich, I would continue doing other chores. But laundry? No thank you. I'd send it out. Send me the bill, please.

I still remember calling my mom during the first week of school, because I couldn't figure out how to use the machines. I was lucky. Mom had always done the laundry, without complaining unless Brooke and I didn't separate them or left our clothes inside out. She usually does a few loads whenever we're home, too.

These days, I put off doing laundry as long as I can. I invent new outfits, which is challenging, because I don't have a celebrity's closet. And there's the other thing, I'm cheap. It costs $1.50 per load, and I think it's a rip-off. This weekend I did Ben's laundry. He didn't ask; I just did it. But that was different. I wanted to be nice. And it was free.