Bad at Being a Grown-Up

I recently discovered the other day that I don't have full coverage car insurance. I literally had no idea, I honestly thought that I did. Upon my discovery, I immediately starting berating myself. What kind of person doesn't know that? What responsible adult is not aware of the extent of their insurance coverage? In the throes of my self-hate, I was reading "Hotel New Hampshire" by John Irving (thank you, Mary, for the recommendation), and came across this little pearl that I feel describes me very aptly: "I knew I would never grow up; I knew my childhood would never leave me, and I would never be quite adult enough - quite responsible enough - for the world." That's me, right there. Oh well. Instead of fighting it, I'll accept it. I'll try to be responsible for the big things, like car insurance and whatnot. But I'll gladly hold on to the other aspects of childlike existance: my love of theme parks and fair rides, my appreciation for cartoons, playing in sand, turning flips in the pool, my naivete. I could go on and on, but I won't. Suffice it to say that I am still basically a kid, and while I'll try harder to be better at the important grown-up stuff, I'm not promising anything. So there - nyah nyah nyah.