When I grow up
I'm going to be a liar.

I know when it started. It was 1997. All my life I'd worn blue jeans and the occasional sailor suit had been forced on me, but I knew one thing- I would never wear khaki pants. There was no doubt in my mind. I don't remember how it happened, but the next thing I knew I was a college boy and I wasn't wearing anything but.

Fast forward a few years to one of my early solo vacations. I was cruising along in the Carolinas in my khaki pants trying to figure out how to spend my hard-earned vacation days. As a kid, I remember grumbling with my sister about how my parents always skipped doing the fun stuff. When I grew up my vacations were going to be non-stop fun. Turns out the "fun stuff" costs a bunch of money and usually isn't worth it. Why didn't the folks tell me that? I would've understood.

At least I've still got my weekends. I can act like a big kid on those. Weekends are about goofing off for 48 consecutive hours, not for housework or yardwork or anything remotely related to work. It's a great system assuming that I want to continue to live in organized chaos. Turns out I don't. So goodbye Sunday, as I worked all day buying and assembling a Hopen wardrobe, which is just another enormous symbol of my sudden drive for increasing organization in almost everything. And as Monday slowly slips away I look at my mental to-do list and wonder how the heck I got to the point of long mental to-do lists. I never meant to want a clean bathroom, a haircut, a full refrigerator, exercise, a clean room, and on and on. I just meant to play outside with my friends until the streetlights came on.

Maybe that's what I'm going to do. Or maybe I'm a liar.