Apparently, I'm not yet an adult. But I might be on my way? Today when my car battery died, I called my dad in tears, crying like I did when I lost the 6th grade spelling bee. And then, like the grown-up I'm masquerading as these days, I got out my AAA card (which is paid for by, guess who, my dad) and called the lovely people at the Roadside Assistance number.
Public service announcement: AAA is great. They are very sweet, and seem to instinctively know when women are on the verge of tears.
Then, like the teenager I really am inside, I called my dad again. While he told me what he has discovered about the going rate for car batteries fitting my beloved Babs' needs (sidenote: I did not name my car. Kudos go to Rachel, Katie, and Taylor for that one), I stepped into Trader Joe's and bought myself some power food: salami, cheese, and bread. If it got me through three weeks in Germany, I'm hoping it can handle the sleep deprived, slightly hormonal version of myself I'm experiencing today. This is evidence that I'm maturing. Ten years ago, I would have just kept crying and failed to recognize that everything seems about fifteen times worse than it actually is when I'm hungry. Or tired. Or in this case, both.
The rest of the story plays out mostly in the adult decision-making realm. I waited for the AAA guy to come, watched as he cleaned and tested my battery, and nodded knowingly when he explained the results, despite the fact that the only sentence I actually understood was the one that went like this: "I don't think you need a new battery today." At this point, I'm feeling good. So good, in fact, that I call my dad, just to let him know that all is well in my grown-up world.
Baby steps.
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