And so here I am - older than my mother was when she married my father and still ordering takeout and letting my laundry pile up until it overflows. I can’t remember a goddamn thing about history, geography, or calculus, but I could give seminars on the art of interpreting the passive aggressive text message. Maybe I’ll quit my job and write children’s books: Who’s Paying For Dinner? and Are You My Fuck Buddy? and Oh, The Places You Won’t Go Because You’re Still Paying Student Loans.