|
Broke
Wife, Big City
Waiting
for the other shoe to drop
By Aprill Brandon
My
husband generally gets home from work every
day at around 7 p.m. (note the “generally” and “around”). However, by
7:03 p.m.
every day, I am convinced he was mugged. Or had an aneurysm. Or got hit
by a
car and is lying in a ditch somewhere. Or was a victim of a sadistic
serial
killer named Meat Claw.
Or
actually finally did meet Keira Knightley,
who agreed to run off with him to Aruba (which, per our informal
pre-nup, is
permissible… by the same token, Ryan Reynolds, if you happen to be
reading
this, my husband is completely OK with us running off to Puerto Rico
together…
just throwing that out there, buddy).
I
haven’t always been this way (the crazed,
worried wife, not the crazed, Ryan Reynolds stalker… the latter has
been going
on for years).
In
fact, this constant worrying has only been
going on for about a month, which not-so-coincidentally, is how long
we’ve been
in Boston.
But
it’s not for the reason you think.
I
love it here. Every day is, in the words of
the common vernacular, a wicked awesome adventure. I find myself
constantly
getting inspired in terms of my writing and photography, and I’ve
finally
achieved my dream of becoming a syndicated columnist (granted, writing
for one
newspaper is a pretty broad definition of the term “syndicated,” but
I’ll take
what I can get). I also now have my own website, something else I’ve
always
wanted to do.
My
husband loves it here possibly even more and
his new job working at the Boston Globe. He’s working fewer hours, too,
which
means we have more time as a couple to explore the city (and stalk
Boston-bred
celebrities like Mark Wahlberg).
And
we are now finally financially secure
enough that we don’t have to live paycheck to paycheck anymore, a
lifestyle
we’ve been accustom to since our days as pimply-faced teenagers working
the
fryer.
We
just found a perfect apartment, located in a
great neighborhood, right by a park with a river running through it
(complete
with three bedrooms, huge kitchen, two porches and a driveway, all of
which is
usually downright impossible to find in our price range in a big city).
And
to top it all off, I’ve been losing weight
without even trying, mostly thanks to the fact I walk everywhere since
I’m
terrified of attempting to drive here.
We’ve
never been happier. Even our freaking dog
seems happier.
Hate
me yet? I know! I totally would, too!
It’s
just all too much. All too good to be
true.
Which
is why I am constantly worried something
bad is going to happen. I mean, the other shoe has to drop soon, right?
No one
gets everything they’ve ever wanted, do they? Maybe even a better
question is,
do we truly deserve all this good fortune that has befallen us?
Oh
sure, we’re good people. We adopt rescued
animals, are above-average tippers and recycle if given the chance (and
by “if
given the chance” I mean if a recycling bin is in my direct walking
path at the
very moment I finish my soda).
But
we’re by no means saints. When asked at the
gas station if I’d like to donate a dollar to help one-legged orphans
with
lupus in Kurdistan, I usually decline. I judge people who wear fanny
packs. And
the two times I actually remembered to bring our cloth grocery bags
doesn’t
mean much when you think of the 7,843 times I forgot and just went with
plastic.
And
so, I sit here waiting for some disaster to
happen, like getting burglarized by a shoe thief.
But
hopefully, after awhile, when my husband
never does get mauled by a rabid pit bull, or I never end up
spontaneously
going blind, I’ll learn to just enjoy our new life and realize it’s a
waste of
time worrying about things I can’t control.
Until
then, however, I’m going to try to be a
better person (like, for instance, one that doesn’t take a penny with
no
intention of ever leaving a penny). You know, just to try and balance
the
karmic scales.
Can’t
get enough of Aprill? Can’t wait until
next week?
Check
out her website at http://aprillbrandon.com/
|
