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Broke Wife, Big City
New Year, New Me, New Panic Attacks
By Aprill Brandon
It was because I was feeling smug. The universe loathes few things more
than smugness. And I was practically dripping with the stuff.
Allow me to paint you a mental picture. It’s a few days after the new
year. There I am, sitting on my couch, in my new Christmas pajamas,
drinking my new fancy Christmas coffee, a halo of smugness practically
hovering over my head. A head that is looking around happily around at
my clean house. I had survived the holiday season, if not with grace,
then at least without any photographic evidence to the contrary. All
the proof of my family’s mindless consumerism was organized and put
away. I had decluttered the drawers and closets. I was busily filling
out my new 2020 planner with reminders of vet appointments and dentist
appointments and dozens of other awful tasks because I WAS ON TOP OF
EVERYTHING THIS YEAR.
As if that wasn’t enough, I had also started reading (heaven help me)
“The Little Book of Hygge: Danish Secrets to Happy Living” that my
mother had gotten me. Because while I am not usually a big one for
self-improvement, I am if it’s telling me that the secret to happiness
is wearing big floofy sweaters while wrapped in a blanket and drinking
alcohol.
No wonder the universe was gunning for me. All that was missing was the
“new year, new me” Facebook post. Which I’m sure I would have gotten
around to, if I hadn’t decided to go for a run (an activity that is
only second in smugness to people who bike for exercise).
So, there I go, bounding down the steps of my porch, trying to resist
the urge to physically pat myself on the back, when I immediately run
into our neighborhood’s garbage collectors. We wave and smile at each
other before they jovially call out “Hey! You forgot our Christmas
cards this year!” Which was an incredibly nice way to put it
considering I have lived in the same place for eight years and I have
never, in fact, remembered to tip them at Christmas. Because I had
completely forgotten that that is a thing you do when you are an adult.
I stood there, his words bouncing off my stupid face, which was frozen
into the world’s most awkward smile. The kind of smile you give when
you realize what a horrible person you are and there is nowhere to
hide.
There is no excuse. None.
But I’m going to offer up a defense. I never asked to be an adult. It
just happened to me. (And you gotta admit it’s a pretty raw deal that
the only way to avoid adulthood is death). As a result, I have always
found adulthood to be intensely overwhelming at times. Which is why I
usually set the bar pretty low, such as “keep kids alive” and “keep
wine fridge stocked.” And everything was FINE until I had to go and
smugly waltz into 2020 with the attitude of “I think I’m finally
getting the hang of this.”
I literally forgot an entire societal norm. I definitely do not have
the hang of this. Who else am I forgetting? Oh god, the recycling guys.
The mail carrier. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen our mail carrier.
But now I have to go stalk around our neighborhood and hunt them down.
But first I have to hit up an ATM. And find a place that still has
Christmas cards. Where are my keys? I should write all this down first.
I need a pen. Where is a pen? Why is there not a pen in this entire
house?!
What else am I forgetting? What other adult stuff has just slipped my
mind? For decades? Do we even have a retirement account? We definitely
don’t have college funds set up for the kids yet. And we should
definitely send at least one. I keep seeing that commercial for Roth
IRAs. Do we need one of those? WHAT THE HELL IS IT?
I need to sign my daughter up for preschool next year. Did I miss that
deadline? Oh no, and she also wanted me to put her in dance classes.
Should I enroll my son in space camp or some crap then too? Where is
her birth certificate? They’ll probably need that. Where are any of our
birth certificates? And our social security cards! They’re probably
wherever our passports are. OH GOD, OUR PASSPORTS EXPIRED!
I think our dog’s tags are expired. Probably our car’s too. Are the
kids having too much screen time? Are my husband and I having enough
sex? Should we buy a house? I eat so unhealthy. Am I already riddled
with cancer!? IS ALL THIS THE FIRST SIGNS OF DEMENTIA!?
I’M SPIRALING. I’M SPIRALING! WHY IS THIS ALL SO HARD? AHHHHHHH! THERE IS SO MUCH TO DO! HOW CAN WE POSSIBLY BE OUT OF WINE!?
*breaks down sobbing*
Well, anyway...*wipes nose on sleeve*...Happy New Year, everyone.
Can’t get enough of Aprill? Can’t wait until next week?
Check out her website at http://aprillbrandon.com/
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