I remember sitting on my bed at my parents’, reading or studying, with my purring cat at the foot of the bed, wondering if adult life could be any better than that. I knew how good I had it: no bills to pay, working maybe 10 hours a week, parents who trusted me enough to let me do pretty much anything I wanted because I didn’t want to do anything they’d disapprove of. I didn’t relish the idea of ascending into adulthood–I was terrified of it.
Now, however, things aren’t that much different. I’m sitting in bed with my laptop, surrounded by bookshelves and candles. I work on the same kinds of crafts I did then and am reading the same types of books. I’m even doing similar work. I don’t have to face the 9-5 drudgery I feared, though even when I did, it was a delight rather than a drudgery. And I’m married, which I definitely never imagined when I pictured my adult life. I thought I’d be the mad cat lady, and instead I married a man who’s allergic to cats.
Are there any images you had of your adult life when you were, say, high-school age that turned out to be totally off or right on?