Now I'd like to think that I'm a responsible adult, however comma, life seems to be keen on proving me otherwise.
The first inciting incident was when I opened my email to see that I had yet to pay my utility bill. Now this wouldn't be an unusual thing, if not for the fact that I had set up automatic payment so that I wouldn't receive such emails that clog my inbox. I had waited until I got back to my apartment to check to see why I was being billed for something that I had, up until this point, assumed I payed to see that I owed a whooping $409.38

Now my usual utility bill is nowhere NEAR this much, so I was left perplexed to the situation. As I went to find the payment portal, I had reached my first major fuckup. Now I'll admit that I'm not the best at checking my emails and paying bills on time, the reason I set up autopay in the first place, but now my forgetfulness has come to rear its ugly head as my account was limited to CASH ONLY PAYMENTS due to "returned payments" on the account and I had racked up a hefty late fee on top of that, hence the $409.38 that I owed. Now how exactly does one pay utilities in cash in the digital aged? I had no fucking clue, so I called the two people who I thought would have a clue... my parents.

And well... lets just say that call didn't go exactly how I thought it would. I called my mother as I knew she would be at home to answer and she did. However, she did not have anything helpful to say except "Ask your Father":/ And the conversation with him didn't go down well either. My father said that I was wasting my time calling him and that I should be on the phone with some sort of representative or other so that they can fix this, not him. I argued that since he is the one that's still paying my bills, I thought that he would want to be informed on this, and would know what to do to keep me from freaking the fuck out, but apparently that too is outside of his wheelhouse. The only thing he was able to do is send me the money so I can "Figure it out."(which was so helpful [i really was since i didn't have $400 on me to pay it myself, but he still wasn't helpful])

The process of me figuring it out was scouring the webpage to find out I can pay my bills at H-E-B? Like okay? I guess that makes sense? It sure as hell is convenient, and you learn something new everyday.Just like how to get $400 out of an ATM, something I never thought I would have to do. I've been cruising through my adult life without having to ever having to use an ATM, cause who doesn't have Zelle in this day and age, and I finally am REQUIRED to figure that out too. Thankfully they are pretty self explanitory, unlike the actually payment of the bill, but the people at the H-E-B customer service desk are very nice and could tell I had never done it before. Now this was a very stressful middle of the week for me(it was Wednesday) and I was ready for a very stressful(because of class work ONLY) weekend.

Uh Oh! Here comes Inciting incident number 2!! Buying groceries at a different H-E-B!!! Well okay, the grocery part was fine, nothing happened there, until I locked my Keys in my Car while putting the shopping cart away!!!! Now I know that this has probably happened once to most people who have cars, but it SHOULDN'T have happened to ME cause I HAVE AN ELECTRONIC KEY!!!!!! IT IS UNLOCKED WHEN THE KEY IS IN THE CAR SO THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE, BUT IT DID????? And of course its the week I happen to buy milk and ground beef, cause life has a sense of humor that's sick and twisted. Now I had already called my mother literally 30 minutes before asking what kind of ground beef to buy cause their is so many options(?!?) so when I called her a second time she was kinda sick of it since she was at a Wedding about to get in line for the buffet. I then had to tell her the Good News!! about the fact that I couldn't get into my car, to that she said "Ask your Father." I am beginning to think that I should just call my brother in law of all people, because when my father simply said "You should call someone about that" I wanted to throw my phone at the window to kill two birds with one small electronic projectile.

The first call said I would take an HOUR OR TWO to get there, the second was a robot, the third was actually a form on a website that seemed a little suspect, and the fourth was actually helpful, saying it would only be a 20 minute wait.

Okaayyy soooo... I could deal with that. Sitting on the hood of my 4-door Mini Cooper in the H-E-B parking lot was an interesting way to distract myself from freaking out over my current situation. It didn't really help when a car would start right next to me and the person was just able to drive off easily into the night. Perhaps I should have left the parking lot because my anxiety over my refrigerated food in my car started to become anger at my myself, but thankfully the "locksmith" had showed up in his Yellow Mustang GT with black striped hood. The only reason I knew the model was because my father has the same car in an offensive orange color, same striped design. Now this guy was an actual locksmith, however comma, auto locksmiths don't carry around a key carving kit(or what ever the hell locksmiths DO actually carry, thankfully I haven't experienced that yet) no, auto locksmiths carry around those carjacking tools, the long looking skinny pole they shove through the door crack. Somehow my assumption was that they were going to get the door open somehow with the manual keyhole that my car has, not actually jack my car.

Something else I learned was that Mini Coopers are hard to jack, however not impossible. He jimmied a small air bag(called an airwedge) through the crack of the door and started to inflate it with an attached hand pump, creating a crack large enough for the car jackers best friend(the long reach) to hit the unlock button, which had to be hit twice because even though he hit it the first time, it didn't open. The amount of air I let out from my body once he opened the door could not be understated, a tuba's amount for sure. It almost amounted to air I sucked in when he told me the price for my rescue.A Whooping $275.00 bucks.

Now I've learned a lot from my time living alone as an adult, however comma, these lessons rarely ever happen within 3 days of each other, and they don't cost NEARLY as much. And I'm still being paid for by my parents, so i'm not looking forward to the day I'm financially independent. I might go sell Finn Wolfcar(the 4-Door Mini Cooper) the moment I get the chance, so I can pay my utilities. The only thing I can hope for is for my next SYL² to be months, if not years away, and not nearly as costly to my bank account.

tldr; most adult problems are solved through money, and I am very, very broke

Now I'd like to think that I'm an logical, intelligent, rational person, however comma, everyone one has their moments. Mine was tonight. It was around 11:30 when I found it to be the perfect time to indulge in some of the hot chocolate powder mix with mini marshmallows that I bought the day previous as a little treat. Now, I have never made hot chocolate before in my entire life, and I have only had access to an electric kettle that I usually use for tea for the past year, so unfortunately I am not very well versed in either. This however, did not stop me from my late night hot chocolate endeavor, as most things don't.

Now here is where my logic fails me. I needed the milk to be hot, I have a kettle that makes things hot, milk goes in kettle and boom, I've got hot chocolate. Now here is where I wish things had gone right, because it would've made the next 30 minutes of my life a lot easier, unfortunately the world is cruel and unjust. So instead of getting milk that was warmer that average, I got what appeared to be some sort of chemical smell(we'll get back to this later). As the kettle turned off, I took a whiff and promptly ignored it in favor of pouring the milk into my mug with my hot chocolate powder. As this is happening, something at the bottom of the kettle catches my eye. A Ginormous Scorch Mark at the bottom of the Kettle.

Baffled, Confounded, Puzzled, Confused, all words that would be accurate to the state of my being as these events unfolded. You see, milk, unlike water, has loads more fat and sugar content. One specific sugar that it is know for is Lactose, which when heated up, it rapidly caramelizes, as all sugars do. This is known as the Maillard reaction, which is how we get the brown crust of a loaf of bread, the dark roast of coffee beans, and soft gooey caramel. Once the heat from the kettle start breaking down the sugars and proteins in milk, and those compounds start reacting with each other, they release volatile compounds that create the distinct chemical smell that some say give off an almond like aroma(to me it just smelt like burnt). Along with the lactose caramelizing and creating the "burnt chemical nut smell", the main protein of milk, Casein, when overheated starts to denature. Denaturing: the breaking down of a proteins folded(3-D) structure. These denatured proteins can created a thin layer on the heated surface and creates the illusion of burnt milk.

Now you'd think that I would just leave it on that note, would you? Well technically yes, but I made the executive decision to call my mom to get her executive decision on what I should do about my burnt kettle bottom. Now my mother isn't THAT old, however I knew for a fact she would be asleep at 11:30 at night. When she answered the phone she was at her most heightened worried state, because why would one of her children be calling her so late at night if something weren't incredibly wrong. This emotion was quickly replaced by complete and utter bafflement over her child's stupidity, and then disappointment over her child's lack of experience in the kitchen. She said that the kettle was toast, that it's as good as gone, and should be thrown out. But I said, momma didn't raise a quitter(it's worse, she raised someone that's more stubborn than smart) and I spent the next 30 minutes boiling water and dish soap while scrubbing away at the bottom of the kettle to clear away the denatured casein and after all that, the kettle lives on to boil another day.

Now this was a learning experience for every(me) involved. In these college years I have lived and learned almost half as much as I should have, but if one thing has stuck with me, its that

tldr; milk can be scorched when boiled in a kettle, avoid at all costs(and don't tell mom next time)