"Adulting" can be pronounced two ways: dripping with sarcasm or bristling with scorn. After all, adult is best unadulterated. Either you can hoist a credit score, fix a flat and fold a fitted sheet, or you're not.
Disqualifying many. I'm happy to soothe the unruly heap of shorts and slacks. Sheets: No. They leap out of the dryer tangled into vicious knots; best to ball and shove in a deep closet — one that locks.
Recently, a friend (OK, the internet) explained a calm approach: Stack up the four corner points. Ignore the antics of the springy elastics. While they're busy roughhousing, sandwich them into a square as neat and smooth as ricotta on white bread.
The first time I worked this trick, I dropped the neat, white square on the dining room table for everyone to admire. No one did. So I swapped it out for ricotta on white. It was tastier than laundry and nearly as adult.