You know what's great about being a grown-up? When you've had a crappy day, you can stop off and buy a bottle of Champagne, and it doesn't matter if it's a school night, and to hell with how much it cost, you can stand in the kitchen and drink that damn bottle with your best beloved when you got home, and it's fine.
The sucky thing about being a grown-up is you have days in which the only thing that will take the hard edge off of it is a bottle of Champagne drunk in the kitchen with your best beloved.
I love being a grown-up. Why? Because of liquor. And jazz. And wit. And France. I think heaven is going to be drinking a dirty vodka martini (Grey Goose, naturellement) while listening to Diana Krall and talking about P.G. Wodehouse and telling ribald stories.