So the fancy-schmancy lawyer party was a hoot. It was, as promised, both fancy AND schmancy, and crowded with famous people elbowing for position at the sushi. I spotted several faces usually seen on the evening news/in the newspapers - politicians of various stripes, judges, and the like. The movers and shakers of Florida. Mostly the crowd was Folks Like Us, local clients of the big law firm throwing the shindig. The food was good.
The most amusing part of the evening was the impromptu soul-searching and bonding that went on in our lawyer's office, as my boss and I and our lawyer compared notes about our over-40 lives. They are most supportive of my plan to Ditch the House in 2006, though the real estate market will ultimately determine the timing of the exercise. Right now the condo/townhouse market is too batshit crazy; I can wait and I will wait until I can score a better deal. And of course, the Where is still up for grabs. I made plans to go out on the town with our attorney's paralegals, they are great gals and good company. Meeting these folks was one of the best fringe benefits of this job - they are my kind of people, and we had a nice bonding session the other night.
Dudley is next to me on the couch, dreaming with his eyes open. Creepy.
Oh, and those of you with parents you can actually talk to like adults, who actually give a shit about anything but themselves, or attempt to understand you or your life, please, count your blessings. We get to deal with My Parents. They are, um, unique. In a moment of madness and after a couple of beers, I mentioned to my parents my plan to offload the house next year while on the phone with them. Apparently, I am not allowed to do this. It's a terrible idea. Don't do it. You can't. You're crazy. What are you talking about? Don't do it. Yes, I'm 47, I own the house, I pay the mortgage, but.....
The all-too-predictable lecture insulting my intelligence, telling me about my many responsibilities (uh, yeah folks, that's WHAT I'M UNLOADING) and, the capper - I Must Keep the House because of the dogs and cats. Yep, they are now my children, and I can't move into something more efficient because of them. Because you know, if I put the couch in a maintenance-free townhouse, the practically inert elderly cats will be unable to sleep there just as well as in this single-family house. The small dogs who don't need a big yard will somehow suffer...something. This make sense to anybody?? 'Cause I'm not getting it. Not to mention that one of those dogs doesn't really belong to me and will be moving out with his Mommy in the next year or two, or whenever.
I am to go to my grave supporting and maintaining everybody else. Life is a load of burdens and responsibilities, and we are to endure, not enjoy. Whenever I get off the phone with my parents I can feel my pulse pounding in my head. They exhaust me. A conversation with them is like being suffocated.
I'll do what I want to do and send them a change of address card after I do it. And practice zoning out and saying, "Uh-huh," while thinking pleasant thoughts, before I have a goddamn stroke. Which would also, of course, be somehow my fault.
It's cold out there this morning, but it's going to warm up into the 70s again later. Gorgeous, gorgeous weather. My plan for this weekend, and every weekend between now and next summer, is to fill the garbage cans with unneeded dreck and boxes with stuff useful enough for Goodwill. There may be a second round of Bossy Dog Yarn Garage Sale shortly. I'm trying to psych myself for a garage sale, but I'm going to try to find a charity to take the small furniture items first. It's surprisingly hard to get rid of things like particleboard bookcases, and I may have to put them out for the magic of Urban Recycling eventually, but my first thought is to donate them, they're perfectly nice and functional and would be useful for a child's room.
Knitting: Still plugging along on the pink baby blankie and the linen shawl. The chilly mornings have me thinking of Koigu gloves. I have at least two abandoned sweaters in progress, but for some reason I'm just not feeling very sweaterly. I love making accessories and oddments and baby things. And I think I'm going to buy myself a lucet. I almost bought one at MDS&W last spring, but somehow passed. It'd be handy for little cute things like this: amulet bag. The new MagKnits appears to be all bags this time, and several are cute. With my bag fixation, I was of course pleased.
Good movies on TV. Chilly animals sleeping. Lots of clutter to sort. A tree to put up later, I think. That's my Saturday!
Sounds like your parents have been harbouring a secret fantasy of moving in with you when they can no longer manage on their own.
ReplyDeleteOr it's just a knee-jerk reaction. There is still that mindset that says a house represents "security"... whatever THAT is.
There is no room in this house for them, so I doubt that is it. And "buying a different place" isn't giving up the security (whatever that is). No, I think it's easier than that - if I thought of it, it must be a mistake. It has ever been thus.
ReplyDeleteAll people, especially when older, resist change. I'm sure it's more "keeping the status quo" that is sending the 'rents into a tizzy, rather than a plan to move in with you at some point!
ReplyDeleteFYI, using the Turkish Cast-On makes a very cute lil amulet bag!! Try it, you'll like it :)
We must have been separated at birth. Those are *my* parents.
ReplyDeleteWhen I got remarried, I did it at city hall and with only the witnesses, and showed my parents the Official Certificate afterwards. It saved a lot of hassle...
I feel for you. My parents are gone, but the general consensus in my family is that I'm odd, over-sensitive, not very practical, book-smart-but-not-really-smart, and that my actions are always open to direct criticism. Hang in there. I like the "do what you want and tell 'em later" philosophy. I think I shall be adopting it more often. :-)
ReplyDeleteIt is their generation talking is all. I haave a few tattoos on my backside and my father accidently saw the one big one. And he went off about how I have ruined my life yada yada. What he has never realized is that I actually have 3 more tattoos. My mother saw one of the others a year or so and it didn't faze her. It is just an age thing. I mean my tattoos are my business and it is my body and I can afford to pay for them if I want them. My father keeps trying to tell me that I have to go and get the spare tire on my truck fixed right away. (It has a nail in it. He just doesn't realize that I like to make one trip out to that end of town at this time of year.)
ReplyDeleteSo do what you want and let them know later.