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I have decided that I am bad at being a grown-up. I was great at being a student. Seriously, ask anyone. I was the most studenty student you can imagine. But adulthood? No, ta. Not keen.

It’s all the responsibilities. Bills and work and cleaning and taxes and MOTs and all that other endless, mindless crap. And it’s so time consuming! Every shred of free time gets swallowed by fulfilling all these commitments, until life just becomes one long treadmill that you have to keep running on because we all know that if you fall off a treadmill, it’s almost impossible to get back on and keep the same pace.

Beano and I used to maintain to anyone who asked that we were 6 and a half. Filling in forms, everything. 6 and a half. And if any responsibilities interfered, we’d react like 6 and a half year olds – by sulking.

I’m not saying that’s a good way to be, but it’s better than this. I feel like student Mookmoo trapped in the body of Bree van der Kamp. It’s fucking hideous. My whole self is being eroded by adulthood. I finally understand now why couples get divorced because the wife has become a ‘wife’ and not a person anymore.

I am going to find a solution this weekend. Definitely. Whether it’s as simple as Direct Debits or as drastic as downsizing. Because the treadmill is fucking killing me.