Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
My mom merely clucks again when taking a bite of a chocolate cupcake this time. As usual, she immediately gags with horror and spits it out into a napkin.
“What’s in this?” Dinah practically shrieks. “Spoiled milk? Partially hydrogenated corn oil? Meat?”
I roll my eyes. I swear, Dinah can be so over the top sometimes.
“Mom, I guarantee there is no meat in that cupcake. That was a chocolate cupcake with hazelnut frosting.”
My mom merely shakes her head.
“No, I think Linda snuck some meat product in there. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had some leftover Spam in her kitchen and threw it into the cupcakes rather than tossing that stuff out.”
I bite my tongue. There’s no sense in reminding my mom that Spam doesn’t really expire if all it does is sit in your cupboard. Heck, that stuff could be taken to outer space, and it would probably still be good after twenty years. But Dinah wants to act dramatic and the best thing to do is to let her get it out of her system. It’s easier than fighting her on it, that’s for sure.
“Okay, I’ve done my work here,” I say with a wan smile. “Anything else you need?” I ask. “Otherwise, I’m going to head home.”
It’s a Sunday night and I’m beat. It shouldn’t be this way because I’ve had all weekend to recover, but sometimes, life just takes every ounce of energy that I have. I’m a Millennial, and as a result sometimes it feels like everything’s stacked against me, and there’s no way out. Even my mom doesn’t understand why I’m tuckered out all the time, but it’s the wall of debt surrounding me that gets me down.
For example, I have tens of thousands in student loans. It’s crazy, and I swear I’ve paid more in interest payments than actual principal payments. Then there’s the fact that my student loans make it impossible to save, and as a result I feel like I’ll be stuck in my tiny little rathole of an apartment forever. I certainly won’t be achieving the dream of American homeownership anytime soon, that’s for sure. I can’t even afford Uber rides sometimes, much less a down payment for an abode.
But the ramifications of being a Millennial are more than just financial. It’s psychological too. I graduated into the Great Recession, and it was really tough finding a job. I know everyone tells the same story, but I literally sent out thousands of applications, hoping that employers would bite. Unfortunately, no one did, and for six months I sat around feeling hopeless. Finally, I landed a job as a home health aide, although it’s completely unrelated to my major of economics. Honestly, seeing how things have turned out, it would have made more sense not to go to college at all.
As a result, I’ve been depressed for a couple years now. Sure, I have friends, but my instability makes me feel worthless sometimes, and it makes me too anxious and shy to really date. Sure, I’ve had flings with guys and sometimes I browse profiles online just for fun, but I don’t usually get into real relationships. After all, who would be interested in a girl barely keeping her head up while mired in a pit of financial quicksand? I’d probably ruin their credit score, in addition to bringing loads of debt into any permanent union.
As a result, I’m pretty much a typical Millennial. I have nothing to my name, no immediate chance of landing a better job, and I still get financial assistance from my mom sometimes. Isn’t that embarrassing? I’m twenty-eight and should be well on my way to adulthood, but instead, sometimes I still feel like a little girl of five years old.
Well, at least with my mom, things are relatively okay. Maybe I borrow money from Dinah sometimes, but our relationship is more than that. She’s my mother, even if from an emotional standpoint, sometimes I feel like I’m the one who’s the maternal figure and not the other way around.
For example, my mom has been sampling each of the cupcakes like she’s the Queen of England. But instead of chewing and swallowing, she’s been chewing and then spitting out each bite in disgust.
“You know Mom, when you spit out food like that, you’re wasting food,” I intone. “Think of all the starving children in Africa.”
Dinah merely rolls her eyes.
“Seriously Katie, you’re so boring sometimes. I had to spit it out. It tasted bad, and I wouldn’t put it past Linda to put poison in some of those suckers.”
I squint at my mom.
“Mom, that would be against the law,” I point out. “Linda would go to jail if she were poisoning someone. Why would she do that?”
My mom merely shrugs.
“Who knows? Why is Linda the way she is? Why are her cupcakes so bad even after ten years in the business? If you find answers to these questions, sweetheart, please let me know because I’d love to be clued in. In fact, I’d be happy to be the one to report her to the police, or at least to the FDA. She deserves to be investigated by the government.”