And it sucks. Pun intended. Saturday, I travelled to Enugu. I’d never been there, and just the thought of the journey by road filled me with all sorts of queasiness. I imagined  armed robbers, deadly encounters with speeding trailers, flat tyres, the driver missing his way… Fortunately, things weren’t so exciting. The trip was 4 hours of unrelieved tedium I spent thinking, reading, wondering. About doing the right things versus doing what was right. About things like adulthood and responsibility and maturity. Someone once wrote that the first mark of maturity is serenity. If she’s right, then I don’t think I’ll ever be mature. I can’t be serene; I have some sort of mental Tourette’s. I fidget, and when I start talking, sometimes I can’t stop. It’s who I am. I can’t say I don’t wish I was serene. I do. But it’s not a gift the good Lord has seen fit to bless me with yet. Is adulthood something that happens to you whether or not you want it, or is it something you choose? …