On being sensible

What does the phrase “You ought to be more sensible” make you feel? What images does it conjure in your mind?

To me, it fills me with revulsion as I see myself descending into middle-class mundanity, afraid of doing anything just in case it’s not sensible.
“Not for me!” I say.

But I’ve come to realise that there has to be a balance. I used to earn a comfortable living, and I used these wages of sin to live as well as I could. A great lifestyle, I thought. And that it was. But when you then lose two jobs in the space of 6 months and have no savings to fall back on, things become a little more difficult. A little more humbling. And borderline bohemian.

But where does it end?

When does “I ought to put some money aside in case I insult any more managers” become “Let me tell you about my mortgage and my theories on tax law”?

Now, some people I have raised this dilemna with have stated that it’s about time I grow up anyway. But enough of ridiculous theories, based in pure fantasy. After all, the whole “grown-up” and “mature” descriptors are purely ficticious constructs anyway. All it really means is behaving how the mob wants you to behave, despite that no one individual would voluntarily cripple themselves in such a way.

Then again, perhaps I’m reading way too much into this whole thing…