Wednesday, October 29, 2003


After work I stopped by the supermarket to get some groceries. I was planning to make us some soup tonight for dinner, and needed to pick up some chicken and potatoes. As I was standing in the checkout line, I realized this:

"I'm standing in the checkout line of the supermarket, where I stopped after work for groceries. Real groceries, from the produce section, not just mac and cheese. When I go home, I will put down the groceries and feed the dog. Then, I'm going to put some dinner on the stove before my husband comes home."

Then it hit me. I'm an adult. I have a grown-up life.

Being in school for eight years after high school infantalizes you. It makes you feel like a kid when you're not. It makes you feel dependent, because, often, you are. You don't have a job. You don't support yourself. You have homework and midterms and classes to attend. You live in a dorm. You share a bathroom with people down the hall.

In some ways, it's not that much different being a resident than being a medical student, but in a lot of ways, it is. And then there's all the rest of it. I'm married. We live in an apartment. We work. We pay our bills. We walk our dog.

Even a year ago, I would have been freaked out by the idea of being an adult. But now, all of a sudden, I'm pretty comfortable with it. It's just something that happened when I wasn't looking. And its kind of nice.

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