Please meet Mabel, my biological clock.
(But be careful, she is kind of a bitch).
This really came as quite of a shock. I breezed through my 20s with not so much as a thought about the subject, and I was pretty sure I'd be able to skate through my 30s just as carefree. Sure we always thought it would happen eventually. But about six months ago, it hit me like a full blown hormonal kick in the ass. That is when I first met Mabel, my biological clock. And Mabel is ticking. Actually, Mabel is screaming, like a crazy woman.
(Mabel is bat shit insane)
I fully understand now what women feel when they want to have babies. I get it, it can't be helped - it's a force greater than yourself. Except I don't want to have a baby. Oh no. Mabel brings on a different yet just as intense desire: to own a house. I neeeeeeeeeeeeeeed a house. NOW! RIGHT THIS VERY MINUTE. But not any house. It has to be a brownstone in Brooklyn. It has to be in poor condition and in need of a full gut renovation, which I will undertake as DIY project with the intrepid husband. It's all I can think about. I spend hours online. It consumes all my available brain space. All the time. In my make believe house, I know which walls I would knock down. I dream of stripping paint off a banister and revealing beautiful wood. I fantasize about a roof garden. And don't get me started about paint and the benefits of skim-coating versus dry wall replacement.
In my make believe house I will throw fabulous parties. In my make believe future house I will look thiner and will dress with impeccable style. Yes, Mabel is not very logical. And she is really mean. She keeps reminding me that I'm not getting any younger and that the extent of renovations I would like to undertake myself is best left to those south of middle age. Not to mention that it's much easier to throw fabulous parties before all your friends embrace polyester and retire to Florida.
I need a house as much as I need air to breathe (this is Mabel speaking)
But of course, these things don't happen right when you want them to. So here is hoping that we can soon be proud to call ourselves homeowners.
This really came as quite of a shock. I breezed through my 20s with not so much as a thought about the subject, and I was pretty sure I'd be able to skate through my 30s just as carefree. Sure we always thought it would happen eventually. But about six months ago, it hit me like a full blown hormonal kick in the ass. That is when I first met Mabel, my biological clock. And Mabel is ticking. Actually, Mabel is screaming, like a crazy woman.
(Mabel is bat shit insane)
I fully understand now what women feel when they want to have babies. I get it, it can't be helped - it's a force greater than yourself. Except I don't want to have a baby. Oh no. Mabel brings on a different yet just as intense desire: to own a house. I neeeeeeeeeeeeeeed a house. NOW! RIGHT THIS VERY MINUTE. But not any house. It has to be a brownstone in Brooklyn. It has to be in poor condition and in need of a full gut renovation, which I will undertake as DIY project with the intrepid husband. It's all I can think about. I spend hours online. It consumes all my available brain space. All the time. In my make believe house, I know which walls I would knock down. I dream of stripping paint off a banister and revealing beautiful wood. I fantasize about a roof garden. And don't get me started about paint and the benefits of skim-coating versus dry wall replacement.
In my make believe house I will throw fabulous parties. In my make believe future house I will look thiner and will dress with impeccable style. Yes, Mabel is not very logical. And she is really mean. She keeps reminding me that I'm not getting any younger and that the extent of renovations I would like to undertake myself is best left to those south of middle age. Not to mention that it's much easier to throw fabulous parties before all your friends embrace polyester and retire to Florida.
I need a house as much as I need air to breathe (this is Mabel speaking)
But of course, these things don't happen right when you want them to. So here is hoping that we can soon be proud to call ourselves homeowners.
Labels: city life
posted by Fe at 10:39 PM
1 comments
