I was in the kitchen the other day playing doing important nutrition-related research on our new breadmaker, while the JB was in the living-room playing making vital technical adjustments to the new flatscreen TV, when these things occurred to me:
- We now have two fewer reasons to Get Out (I refer to the flicks. See also: Trips to bakery)
- We are now officially bourgeois.
While clearly a thing to celebrate, (I know, I know, I DO REALISE) the social mobility afforded by the husband's meteoric rise to fame default, civil servant-style promotion (Oh, you're still here. Well. Look, have some more cash.) it has provoked some reconfiguring of the mental furniture. I've been a starving artist for so long, it's ingrained to the point where it's part of me. I like to live in the grittier parts of town, with the "real" people, for instance. (No, I don't even know what I mean by this. Are South-Siders made of plastic? Are they trained monkeys? Are they?). Should we now give in to the forces of the market, move to a leafy suburb and start listening to country music? Also, how will this work henceforth given that thus far we've been a fifty/fifty type of couple? His salary may be enlarged, but mine is still the familiar runty one it has been lo these many years. If he says: Let's get a Mercedes/an indoor gym/some tickets to Paris/whatever mysterious things well-off people do, do I repressively shake my head like some sort of puritan?
I accept this makes me as odd as two left shoes, of course. But any virtual kicks up the arse/advice/comparing of notes, anyone on this the eve of the new year?
I will return tomorrow, brain fog permitting, for resolutions and good wishes. Though I quite like the new page feel of the first day of the year, I am not really one for what I (would, wouldn't I) see as the enforced jollity of New Year Eve (Insert repressive, puritan head-shake.) - it brings out the melancholy in me. Maybe it's that I simply hate saying goodbye, even to years? The beginning of the academic year fits me better as a starting point, and it's the beginning of the autumn which I love, being of the Reverse SAD disposition.
But you lovely, normal, healthy, people do Have The Fun! I'll be in the back room with the lights off,* drinking cocoa and eating jaffa cakes.**
*Only joking! I am going to a partay!
**My mother gave us a YARD of these. (People not of these shores, they are a very sweet spongy biscuit with a jelly-like orange filling. (Well, orange flavour, anyway. I doubt if any natural ingredients are allowed in a Jaffa Cake. It would be improper.) And a chocolate coating.) And since the JB believes the chocolate/orange combo is a thing of the divil, every inch is MINE ALL MINE.
MINE I TELL YOU.