Our knives used to throw themselves, lemming-like, into the narrow crack between the counter and the stove at the old house.

Cindy, if you can afford the piano, go piano. It's not as portable, but the sound is infinitely richer.

What trappings define adulthood for you guys?

Well, I'm stuck in this loop where, I'm ready to have nice furniture, and can basically afford nice furniture, but can't afford a nice, permanent place of my own to put same. I'll replace the bad old tippy bookcases with something else that is nicer, but sturdy enough to be moved ten more times.

The trapping that really defined adulthood, for me, was the knowledge that most problems could be solved with a combination of research, money, and effort. I spent a couple of years there totally clueless about the world, and then realized that cluefulness was related to the interest I had in gaining a clue.

OK, here's my question, all you spoon-avoidants: how do you get the ground coffee into the filtery thing in the first place?

I use the scoop that came with the coffee maker. I don't understand how people grind the right amount, unless you just eye the grounds and add the correct amount of water. I measure the water too.

What trappings define adulthood for you guys?

I can't pinpoint adult trappings. I was on the phone with my mother the other day and I was trying to point out (again, futilely) how she coddles my irresponsible younger brother. I could only feebly compare that at his age I was living in my own apartment in New York. That's not "adult", that just is. I think if I ever have a real dinner party I will feel grown-up. That, or a $4000 tux.

OMFG!

(totally work safe)

I think if I ever have a real dinner party I will feel grown-up.

What's a real dinner party? We have had people, in the past when life wasn't fucking hellishly busy, over for dinner pretty regularly, but my sense is that it doesn't count.

What's a real dinner party? We have had people, in the past when life wasn't fucking hellishly busy, over for dinner pretty regularly, but my sense is that it doesn't count.

Right, I have people over to sit on my couch and watch TV and eat takeout or some spaghetti I made. But here's what I envision when I grow up:
1. A dining room table that seats at least six (mine seats two).
2. At least three courses.
3. Wine.
4. Sparkling conversation, b/c when I grow up all my friends will be like, Amy Sedaris and junk.

Piano over keyboard, no contest (if financially feasible). Better resale value, too.

Adulthood: furniture. I knew maried professors who had a little girl when I was a grad student, and they had this dining room set that was basically patio furniture. I knew then that PhDs and progeny notwithstanding, they were not adults. (Okay, I knew that already. We used to say they should have had a terrarium instead of a daughter. We were mean, and also childless.)

Allyson, I sometimes call my sister's voicemail and let Owen leave messages for her, in case of Very Bad Days. She saves them and will go back and listen if she's feeling particulary low.

Well, yes. Coffee's perfect mate is clearly sweet & low.

I used to be tried and true Half & Half girl, until I met my new, Coffeemate Hazelnut master.

What trappings define adulthood for you guys?

I don't know. Arguing with AT&T about your cable bill. Voluntarily flipping your mattress. Eating cake for dinner because you can. Nobody taking care of your problems for you.