How I know I'm an adult:
Excitement ensues because I quit work next week but my insurance extends through next month.
How I know I'm ridiculous:
I argued with Di over the difference between the colors cranberry and raspberry.
Emilie claims neither of these are actually colors -- they're foods.
How I know I'm an adult but still not grownup:
Andrea and I rock-paper-scissored in an Italian restaurant because we couldn't decide who got the mint and who got the butterscotch candy left on our check.
How I know I'm engaged:
I get distracted by the glitter when I type.
(more to come)