Yesterday, I survived my second yoga class without incident. Since nothing blog-worthy came from this outing, I thought I'd reprise an account of President's Day in the northeastern post-industrial wasteland (NEPIW). I should preface this entry by saying that things happen in the NEPIW that don't happen anywhere else (a thought I've always found comforting). In my five years there, I honed an "eyes forward at all times" approach; but, there were times when the downright weirdness of the place seeped through. The following is one of those times:
This morning, I had a plan to celebrate President's Day. I was going to chop down a cherry tree, free some slaves, start a bunch of government agencies with 3-4 letter acronyms that don't spell actual words, tape all of my conversations, have an affair with an intern, then, to round out a busy day, I was going to invade an unsuspecting country. Well, time got away from me and I didn't get to any of these things. But, there's always next year.
Yesterday, I made my weekly trip to the grocery store and left wondering why I can't just manufacture my own food at home. All the way through the store, I trailed along behind this really annoying middle-aged couple. They plodded along, pushing one of those enormous carts. I'd work my way around them, then turn the next aisle and there they'd be, in front of me again. I started to think they were aliens who could teleport, sent to annoy earthlings in grocery stores.
The final straw was when I turned down the last aisle and they were throwing a roll of paper towels back and forth down the aisle. I'm not making this up. He was at one end, and she at the other, and they were tossing a roll of paper towels like a football back and forth. I almost shouted, "What the hell is the matter with you people?!! I have been locked up in my apartment non-stop for 5 days, trying to articulate some sort of meaningful argument for my dissertation and do you see me throwing paper towels in the grocery store? No. No, you don't."
I finally extracted myself from this couple of freaks, after following them through the frozen food section. I got in line behind a woman who was wearing a winter coat, a spring/summer skirt and sandals. Open-toed, full-on, sandals! She didn't even have pantyhose on. It was snowing outside. Snow = cold. The woman was buying a bunch of organic food - you know, no preservatives, no additives, no taste. I proudly put my meat, frozen processed food, cookies, and 10% real juice on the belt behind her "food."
As she purchased her food, she felt the need to narrate her every move - "I'm swiping my Wegmans card..I'm swiping my credit card, I'm paying with credit!" Again, I wanted to explain that although I'd been cooped up without human contact for 5 days, I was appropriately attired with real shoes and socks on. But, what do I know. Maybe eating organic food makes your feet really hot.
Stay tuned for more tales of "Crazy, Potential Aliens in the NEPIW."
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I have read that if sahms were paid for what they do (childcare, cleaning, cooking, sometimes managing the family finances, etc) that they would make something like $120,000 a year or so. When you look at it like that, does it really make sense to go back to work?
But, according to the working moms on my message board, contrary to the aohell survey, most of them claim to work because they were going batshit crazy staying at home.
And, if you marry a decent guy, like I did, you can just send the kids to the park with daddy to get your alone time. No skulking in the bathroom needed.
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