All grown up

Sometimes I hate being grown up. I am now that which I never thought I would become. Someone with a job. Someone who earns a salary. Someone who has to make important life decisions. Someone grown up. I deal with our finances, I get to decide whether we can afford something or not. I liaise with other people in the industry, I deal with other grown ups, and I am treated with respect - like a grown up should be treated. I have a signature on my email, my own medical aid card, and I run my own household. And I have my very own husband.

Today I just want to be small again. I want to go home and play until dinner time. I don't care what we have for supper. And then I want to beg for something nice for dessert, and (eventually) get what I want. I don't want to have to worry about the dishes, or the state of the house.

I don't want to have to worry about the new medical aid we're getting since our company was sold. I don't want to have to think that I can only join them if my ID document comes from Home Affairs, and that in the mean time we'll be sitting without any medical coverage. I don't want to have to worry about the fact that I attached my expired temporary ID in the hope that they will miss the expiry date. I don't want to have to worry about whether we chose the right option or not, or that the company won't pay the 50% share that they are legally obliged to pay (if they don't, we won't have enough money to live).

I don't want to have to worry about the fact that my future study endeavours (= my future in general) are in the hands of some Home Affairs official (who is probably twiddling his thumbs), since you can't register without your ID Document. I don't want to have to worry about money anymore. I don't want to have to lie awake in the evenings doing sums in my head.

I want to be carefree. I want someone to tuck me into bed and dream about sweets and sun and holidays and love and bunnies.