Why do I feel disappointed that people have to remind others not to live in absolute filth? I’m having PTSD from rooming in college with a girl who loves to cook and then dump any leftover food to fester in the sink. Some of the advice in Almost Adulting include doing the dishes, cleaning the bathroom (the place you wash away your actual shit), and wiping down surfaces. I’m not impressed.
No, cleaning doesn’t have to be your priority when you have a million of other tasks to take care of first. However, you’re not rolling in money from the stock interests you’ve invested in to hire regular service. So, yeah, be considerate if you’re sharing a space but otherwise who cares (except me). That pretty much sums up the first 50 pages. The rest is a mixture of anecdotes and attempts to deconstruct them.
At best, it’s a harmless memoir reaching out to the self-centered monster in all of us. Sometimes, it’s not so bad to take care of yourself either because you realize that no one else is going to do it for you. While I didn’t find a lot to take away, I do appreciate the whole “positivity vibe” that you might find in a quirky inspirational quote book at Urban Outfitters. Arden dispels sex myths and makes arguments about why the Internet is integral to our relationships. I think that if I had read this early on while still in high school, I would have honestly gained more confidence. Most self-help books tell you to be the best version of a human being instead of simply being a better you. I’m glad that Almost Adulting does the latter.
I mean, do I have to say any more? It’s aesthetic af and if you didn’t enjoy the book then it’s a beautiful decoration piece.