The Maturity Quota

Today I hit my maturity quota. I usually hit it on a Friday, after a long week of work, so it came as no surprise. When I hit my maturity quota I begin to feel too grown up, and I start thinking about things such as mortgages and politics and other bland topics that would horrify me if I was still eighteen-years old.

I’ve found that when this happens I have to do something completely immature, just to tip my internal scale of maturity vs. immaturity and bring it back into some form of equilibrium. If I don’t find an immaturity outlet soon after hitting my maturity quota, I risk becoming permanently mature, which would be incredibly disastrous and would inevitably end up with me rising to the position of manager at work. (I shudder just to think of it.)

Luckily, I found my immaturity outlet today when I got home from work. I was walking down the hallway towards my apartment when a man left his apartment and began walking in the same direction, about ten feet in front of me.

I must stress that I’d never seen this man before in my life. He looked like a well-groomed, well-adjusted person, and I had no reason to be annoyed by him. (Now, if he had been whistling or wearing a New York Yankees cap I would have.) Still, I began to make faces at him. I stuck out my tongue. I contorted my face weirdly. I bugged out my eyes. This lasted for a good ten to fifteen seconds until I arrived at my apartment.

I’m pretty certain that if the man would have looked back at any point when I was making faces at him, he would have either run away and reported me to the authorities or else decked me. Luckily, he didn’t, and I managed to safely find my immaturity outlet and restore my equilibrium.

Now, you may think that what I did was rude. However, I like to think that the man would have done the same thing to me, if given the chance, in order to restore his own equilibrium. And if he wouldn’t, it would mean that he’s become permanently mature, and then he deserved it anyway.