My parents often ask me what I plan on doing with my future. They know, at least, that I have aspirations that stretch too far. Working on a farm? Check. Going into PR? I’ll do that too. And ice cream stand? Why not. I also want to be a town crier and the Jane Goodall of manatees. But, that’s only naming a few.

But none of that is ever likely to happen, and what will happen instead is that I will live in a van down by the river.

When family members ask me at the holiday dinner table if I ‘am ready to be an adult’ I want to respond with this story: This one time I didn’t have any toilet paper in my house. Do you know what I did? I didn’t go to the bathroom at home. I walked to a campus building because I was actually too lazy to go buy toilet paper. They have it at the corner store. On my street corner. I can’t really stress this statement enough.

I’m not ready to be a fully functioning adult.

If I prioritize deep internet explorations of the kiwi bird (do you know how big its egg is in comparison to its body? I can’t even.) over cleaning the dishes or taking out the trash, than there is no further explanation you really need as to why I can’t even be a responsible person in general. Heaven forbid I get any pets. I may love them with all of my heart, but I will neglect to walk them until they became so big I can literally roll them places.

And jobs? Don’t even get me started on those. Do I have one in mind? Yes, yes I do. I have a lot of them in mind but honestly I’ll take the first one that loves me.

“Oh,” people ask “what are you doing in the mean time?

The mean time to what? You mean what am I doing in my down time? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I spent an entire day on Netflix scrolling through movies that I’m going to tell you I’ll watch, but probably never will. What did you do in your downtime? Oh, you baked cookies and mopped the floor? That’s wonderful! I will never mop anything, or be able to bake cookies without eating all of the dough first! They never even make it on a tray into the oven.

But, let’s sit down a moment here and realize no one was ever really ready to grow up. Personally, I think maturity is a mindset and it is one I will never get.

You mean I have to pay you for heating? Hold on while I cuddle with nineteen blankets I dragged from my childhood home instead.

Schoolwork? Oh, wait, first I’m going to take this Buzzfeed quiz on which cheese I am because DAMMIT I NEED TO KNOW!

But sometimes life just comes along and slaps you so hard with reality that your head spins and then you rub at your cheek delicately, stare at what you once regarded as truth and go: “but why?”

“Because you have responsibilities now.” Life will say, in his know-it-all, nasally voice.

There’s that pile of laundry I neglected to do a week ago (which I will sit in, wail, and slap at until all my tears are dry), and I forgot to take out the trash. I’m haunted by uncertainty for my future and a nagging sense of concern for things I can’t control.

Which is fine, because it will all work out eventually. But for now, at Christmas, when I am staring forlornly out windows and swishing around a glass of wine you should not ask me what I plan on doing when I graduate, because I will have to stifle that crazy, self-depreciating laughter and muster up the courage to shrug and say “frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.”