Open Rebellion

It starts slowly, so slowly that I never quite see it coming.  Instead of ironing all my clothes for the week on Sunday evening, I toss a few items in the dryer with a wet washrag and consider that acceptable.

The next week, I identify all the knit clothes I own, toss them into the dryer with a wet rag, and skip the ironing all together.

The following week, I guiltily get clothes to the dry cleaner and vow that I will iron the rest.  I do iron those clothes.  But I resent it.

The next week I find multiple excuses to avoid drying my hair and turn up at work with braids or a messy bun in hopes that either will disguise my failure to be a mature adult.  My clothes are mostly ironed, but it’s a job done poorly.  I still resent it.

The next week, I start packing flip flops in my school bag, so I can switch shoes as soon as the school day has ended.

And then a day comes when I get to the car in the morning and only then do I realize I am still wearing my morning flip flops.  I know I should go inside and get school-suitable shoes.

I do get them.  

But I grow weary of grown-up clothes and grown-up efforts.  I want to wear flip flops every day.   It’s May 10 and Spring rebellion is in full bloom.