"Uh-oh"

"You're going to laugh."

"What is it?"

"I've still got an underage drinking fine I never paid."

"What?!?"

"163 dollars. It's technically supposed to be paid in Wautoma, but he said for an extra five bucks, they'd take care of it here for me."

Blink. Blink. "Uh, that's very considerate of him."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Good deal all around."

"Wautoma was really a hot spot for you, back in the day, wasn't it? Mailbox baseball and underage drinking too?"

"No no no. It was all the same weekend."

"I see." Blink. Blink. "Wow. Just think. That fine's been on the books here for ten whole years. Cowtown PD. They always get their man."

"Yup."

"Yup."

***

So, color me relieved. I'd almost say it's time for a big ol' celebratory bonghit, but we're still dry. Maybe something will come through this weekend.

Gee. Maybe I should take this scare as a warning. Maybe next time, it really will all go down.

Aw, who am I kidding. I'm laughing even as I type this. I'm totally unrepentant. I'm quite possibly an idiot. But hey. The drugs are an absolutely key component of my slacker lifestyle. If I were sober 24/7 I might do something really foolish and go get a real job.

No, wait. That didn't come out right. Maybe I should stop this line of thought before I really depress myself. Right now, I'm doing ok. The status can remain quo, at least for a little while longer.

***

Aw, crap. Since I seem to be in such a depressing introspective mood tonight, all the issues are coming out to play. Now I'm remembering something else. A few years back, I blithely reasoned that I didn't have to be in any hurry to settle down and have kids. My mom didn't have me till she was 27. I had years before I had to worry about it.

I'll be 27 next month.

When I had this line of thought a few days ago, I tried to figure it out in terms of months, to give me as much more time as possible. Lessee. I was born in July, which means I was conceived in October, a few months before my mom turned 27. Aw, crap.

I like kids. But only in small doses. I like saying, Ok, that's enough, you go away now. But maybe that would be different with one of my own.

But I still don't think I'm really ready. Christine told me once that if I wait till I think I'm ready, it will never happen. Maybe she's right.

The main trouble is, I still do a lot of stupid things, and I still enjoy the hell out of all of them. No, not all substance related, either, SmartyPants.

I like staying up all night for no good reason at all. I like eating totally unhealthy crap. I like being forced to eat unhealthy crap for a week once in a while, because I blew the food budget on books and shiny things. That kind of stupid. Tom Robbins called them "Essential Insanities." It's true. I need to do completely silly things once in a while, or I really will go insane, and not in a good way. If I had a kid, I'd have to give all that up. That's what I'm not ready for.

See, what I think it comes down to is that I feel like I should give up the cigarettes and the drugs, get a job I hate, and settle down. In short, Grow Up. But I don't want to.

Besides, I'm kind of curious. Here I've prolonged the whole carefree pseudoadult thing for more than five years. Maybe the only reason more people don't do this is because they really don't think they can.

You get a job, you get married, you move to the suburbs, and then you die. That's Life. Everyone knows that. But so far, I think I'm doing a pretty damn good job of proving them wrong.

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