The thing I hate most about being an adult is all the bloody responsibility. House, car, bills, food, cleaning, washing, kids, work. In darker times, I fantasised about being hospitalized with nervous exhaustion so I could be totally without responsibility, even for my own actions. And get lots of bed rest. Yes, yes, I know it wouldn’t be the cushy escape I imagined, but I wasn’t thinking straight at the time. I was feeling a bit desperate and overwhelmed. Doing canteen duty yesterday gave me flashbacks. Hundreds of children rapid-fire ordering at the canteen window: four icy bites, two packets of Red Rock Deli Chips and three bags of choc-chip cookies adds up to … way too much canteen money for one kid. Plus a nasty altercation over a slushie with a high schooler. She reckoned she paid and didn’t get one, but didn’t notice until 15 minutes later. Yeah, right. What kid forgets a cola slushie? I tottered out of the canteen after five hours at the coal-face feeling about as punch-drunk as I did after five hours volunteering at the school disco on Saturday night. And I had a good old whine in the playground to the mums who’d organised the school disco. Probably not the ideal recipients of my angst, since they’d be up to around 500 hours of unpaid labour by now. But I went ahead and whinged anyway. I feel awe for volunteers who give their time selflessly. I’m finding working my butt off – for free – pretty challenging. It makes working for actual money seem quite enticing. But I’m really wishing there was a third winning-the-lottery option. That’d be my pick. Then I could pay other people to do everything and throw massive donations at the rest. But I don’t seemed to be having much luck on that front. So I’ll just turn up for canteen duty again next month and trawl the streets door-knocking for donations for the school fundraiser because … I really don’t know why. I just will.