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Broke Wife, Big City
Just call me
Adulty McAdultface
By Aprill Brandon
You guys, I gotta be honest. I never thought I’d live to see this day.
I was mentally prepared for World War III breaking out, or a zombie
apocalypse, or Kim Kardashian becoming Vice President.
But not this.
Never this.
There I was sitting at the table, filling out Mother’s Day cards, when
I realized that not only was I filling out holiday cards on time for
the first time in history, but that I also, for the first time in
history, had stamps on hand. Not only that, but I had enough stamps on
hand to even cover the extra postage required for the extra weight the
two tons of glitter that covers every Mother’s Day card added.
This foreign and unnatural act was then followed by paying our bills
online. And by paying our bills, I mean just that. Going to each
website, seeing how much was owed, typing in that amount, and hitting
the “submit payment” button. There wasn’t one single instance of
juggling, or robbing Peter to pay Paul, or digging for spare change in
the gross crevices of our ancient couch, or awkward text messages to my
husband asking “hey, would you rather go three days without electricity
or five days without cell phone service?” followed by a gun emoji.
And in perhaps the most convincing sign of the End Times, I sent out
the rent check. On time. Early even. With an actual check in the
envelope. A check filled out properly instead of “accidentally” putting
the date where the amount should go in a desperate bid to buy myself
another week and a half.
But it was when I glanced over my To-Do
(Hopefully-But-Probably-Not-Before-I-Die) List and realized it was
almost empty that the full impact of what was happening hit me. I can’t
believe I’m about to say this, but I think my husband and I might
actually have our crap together.
Yeah. I think that’s what this strange feeling is. It’s having all your
crap together. I mean, just look at the evidence.
Everyone in my family has had their doctor appointment and are
up-to-date on their shots. Even the dog. Speaking of which, the dog has
tick repellent on him at a seasonably appropriate time and my husband
trimmed his puppy nails before he even got close to the Edward
Scissorhands phase.
Our car has been inspected BEFORE the expiration sticker expired. Our
driver’s licenses currently coincide with the actual U.S. state we are
living in. There was an error with our taxes and my husband called
immediately and dealt with it calmly and efficiently. There was an
error with our insurance and I called immediately and dealt with it
while hollering over a screaming toddler and a barking dog. But still,
efficiently nonetheless.
We took our vitamins this morning, we have a surplus of toilet paper in
the bathroom, we have fresh fruit and at least one vegetable in the
fridge. We have an actual friggin’ savings account. We bought sturdy
wood bookshelves from a grown-up furniture store to replace our cheap
death trap bookshelves made mostly of dust and cobwebs. And on given
day our house is clean-ish enough that I don’t have to hide in the
bathroom every time the doorbell rings because it’s too embarrassing to
even let the UPS dude glimpse at the unholy mess awaiting inside.
I mean, sure, I’ve been adulting for a long time, but this is the first
time I’ve adulted so adulty-like. For instance, let’s compare today
with a similar day five years ago.
My mom wouldn’t get her Mother’s Day card until Halloween and only then
because I delivered it in person because I never did get around to
buying stamps. And mostly I never got around to buying stamps because I
really needed the $8 to go instead toward the overdraft fee our bank
charged us because I made a student loan payment and bought a Big Mac
with super-sized fries that week. Naturally, all the financial stress
would wreak havoc with my health but instead of going to a human
doctor, I would just Google “weird rash on shoulder that looks like Abe
Lincoln” and put some expired yogurt on it because hey, homeopathy is
cheap and also I haven’t cleaned out the fridge in three years.
The only time we ever did get our vehicle inspected or make sure our
driver’s licenses were up-to-date or that literally anything about our
mode of transportation was legal was when we got a friendly reminder in
ticket form from our helpful neighborhood policeman. And even then, it
took no less than a minimum of five tickets. Taxes were attempted at
11:30 p.m. on April 14 and any letters dealing with any kind of
insurance were put in the ever-growing “don’t throw away but don’t
open” mail pile. Which wasn’t a problem because the pile could never be
found because we never cleaned unless someone who had better adult
credentials than we did was coming over for a visit. In which case,
most of our possessions were just thrown into the tub and we
frantically dusted with an old T-shirt while tripping over our dog who
looked like a scary homeless mutt on stilts because we never seemed to
have time to groom him
I gotta admit, it’s a great feeling. This crap-having-togetherness. And
I look forward to sailing this sea of grown-up tranquility for the next
two months. All the way up until my second child is born and everything
falls apart again in the savage vortex that is newborn baby caretaking.
Ah, but it was nice while it lasted.
Can’t get enough of Aprill? Can’t wait until next week?
Check out her website at http://aprillbrandon.com/
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