My Parents Still Help Me Do Adulting

I’m not independent and I’m not mad about it.

Photo by Aral Tasher on Unsplash

Picture this: I’m twenty-four years old, my purse is packed with not only my phone, keys and wallet, but also allergy tablets, tissues, and painkillers.

I’m meeting a friend for lunch, and I’m running slightly ahead of time. My outfit is spot on because I picked it out last night. I’ve called ahead…