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I went to visit a

I went to visit a dear old friend tonight. She's part of this coven of women I know (most of whom don't know each other) who are older and wiser than me and help me get perspective on my twentysomthing bullshit (see poetry below).

Anyway, she just moved into a beautiful new house with her new husband, her son, and her three new stepchildren. When I first met her, she was this struggling single mom with two kids and a fucker of an ex. And now, here she is in this crazy new place (by crazy I mean: heated floors in the bathroom, speakers in every room of the house that pipe in whatever CD you're currently listening to, screened-in porch with a fireplace, shower with multiple heads) and happier than I've ever seen her. And I don't mean to make it sound like this place, these material things, are what is making her happy. She just seems truly happy with her life right now, and if anyone deserves a little piece of Easy Street, it's her.

But, I did get to thinking when I was in this house. I thought, no wonder it's so easy for wealthy people to shut out the rest of the world (or at least, as a not-wealthy person looking in from the outside I percieve that it is easy for them to do that). I was sitting on the porch, nursing my gin and tonic, looking at the woods behind their house and at everything inside and thinking if I lived here it might be an effort for me to get too worked up about the outside world. It's so easy to ignore! Just switch on the ol' big screen TV, have yourself a snack and zone the fuck out. Whereas, if you're living in an apartment downtown, it's a little bit harder to have a Calgon moment and stop thinking about the shit that's outside your window.

Just an observation.

Posted August 22, 2002 12:03 AM | On This Day: 2005

 

4 Comments

Considering marriage is nothing more than a financial arrangement for the purpose of raising children, and assuming all of the children are of school age, and at least one offsring is of driving age (w/ an available vehicle), They would require only an investment of approximately two hours time to assure all offspring were successfully deposited into their respective educational containers which would therefore allow her freedom via an unoccupied domus (assuming also the husband also works offsite), a timeframe of approximately eight hours to enjoy her existence where her decisions are not based on the responsibility of care-giving or nurturing. Of course this could most probably extented if she were vigorously encouraging all offsring to participate in some sort of after-school activity that would not require the responsibility of transport to the needed afterschool occupation container. One must also remember the malleability of the income tool, and how readily available the funding for her to provide a budget for this allotted time where one's own decisions are allowed to exist. I suggest you offer the friend a key to your apartment. That way she could enjoy the aural excitement that is urbanity, and I would also expect her to (out of shear habitual function) to clean your apartment, thus also releasing the expenditure of time you would usually have to dedicate to these particular tasks. For two dollar investment (a duplicate key) and the surrendering of a nominal amount of privacy, you too could have the needed time to zone out in a mode superior to the one your current environment allows, similar in depth to the manner that your friend enjoys, but I'm not sure how big your TV is, or the constant underlying ferocity of your biological clock demanding one to form a family rings in the back of your subconscious, and how cyclical the endless reminder of Catholic guilt blooms in your waking hours. Actually I find this relaxing when this phenomena consumes one's active imagination. But as a lapsed Catholic I do consider this trauma to be understood in a completely different reflection than the one you experience. Good Luck,nervous and small

maybe she should write a book. how I went from single motherhood to a screened-in porch with a fire place. I'd buy it.

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