Experts say that after being married for a while you start adopting your significant other’s bad habits. Well, after 13 years of marriage I can now confirm this is accurate.
Example: I’ve recently adopted my husband’s love of procrastination.
I currently need to…
- Pack up our condo,
- Find a reliable / reputable mover (if such a thing exists),
- Shop for new / smaller furniture that will fit in our much smaller NYC apartment,
- Enroll Maya in a new school, and
- Find a new job.
But when my husband (who apparently has nothing moving-related to worry about) said, “NYC is only a 6 hour flight from London, do you want to go?”
The only sensible answer – the only possible answer – was, “Yes, of course I want to go.”
So I’ve decided that for now, instead of stressing out about everything, I’m going to have a scone and pretend all is just great.
But next week? When I get home? Next week is going to be scary.
There’s so much going on right now that I don’t know if I’m coming or going. But due to my OCD issues, a weekly post has to happen, even if it has to happen in bullet points.
- We are in NY right now trying to find a place to live. I am mystified by the concept of what brokers call a “3 bedroom flex.” A dining room is not a bedroom. And no pressurized wall will make it so. Ever.
- Also, I don’t get why we can only rent a place 30 days out. How do people plan things? The uncertainty of everything is killing me.
- $465 a month for a parking spot? Baffling.
- Monday marked 13 blissful years of marriage.
- Instead of a gift I made a valiant attempt at not being bossy. I failed, just as we all knew I would.
- Ali made me a handmade card because he forgot to buy me a real one. Just as we all knew he would.
- We ate at David Burke Kitchen, in between viewing “flex” rooms and galley kitchens. The Pretzel Crab Cake sort of made up for everything.
- Maya is driving us nuts. We keep buying her candy and books to make her stop. It isn’t working.
- My email inbox is overwhelming me.
- I need to educate myself on rain appropriate footwear because I just ruined a brand new pair of shoes. Suggestions?
So obviously there are a million things going on and there isn’t a moment to breathe. But the truth is that I wouldn’t change a single thing about anything right now.
It’s obvious that I’m in the minority when it comes to not particularly loving Los Angeles.
I base this on the fact that another gazillion people moved here last year and seem to love everything about L.A.
I can’t really put my finger on what it is about this city that I am not a fan of. Because really, when one overlooks the:
- Horrendous traffic at all hours of the day and night,
- Fact that everyone has perfect hair (which obviously gives me a ridiculous complex about mine),
- Earthquakes that seem to occur more and more frequently,
- Crazy drivers who think they are above all laws,
- Smog (that is at least partially responsible for my eczema),
- Lack of seasons,
- Non-walkability factor,
- Lack of public transportation,
- Scary fights over parking spaces,
- Fact that valet parking must be a budgeted line item….
…and looks at the good things instead, like:
- the fact we have True Food Kitchen,
- and ?
…this city really isn’t so bad after all.
In any case, I’m thinking that my unpopular opinions about Los Angeles are now irrelevant. Why? Because we’re moving to NYC this summer.
Our fridge was so empty this week it didn’t even have ketchup in it.
Now while an empty fridge is nothing new around here, even I have to admit that not having ketchup is cause for some alarm. This is because we’ve come to rely on condiments as they make even my most random of cooking attempts somewhat tasty.
I can’t really say I have much of an excuse for not having ketchup except that:
- I got some bad news regarding my hair: Apparently I’m no longer eligible to do Japanese straightening anymore. If I want to keep my hair on my head that is. Which I do.
- Thinking of the impending frizz that will likely make me even taller than I already am made me lose my appetite.
- Not having an appetite didn’t exactly propel me to the grocery store.
- Ali being out of town all week (read there were no specific demands for breakfast / lunch / dinner) didn’t exactly propel me there either.
- And when I finally made it there? I couldn’t find a single parking spot. Not one, despite circling for 10 minutes. (Love L.A. Love it).
So Maya and I gave up and hightailed it back home. Where we discovered that if you close your eyes really hard, dip a rice cake in spaghetti sauce, and wish upon a star? It almost tastes like a french fry.
On Saturday morning I thought to myself:
“Today I’m not going to harp on things that shouldn’t matter. Like the fact that I tripped on a certain 2nd grader’s filthy backpack on my way to the gym this morning. Twice. I’m also not going to wax on about how much Maya’s been on the iPad lately. And I’m certainly not going to mention Ali’s cables or laptop(s) or socks.”
It was a long thought.
After that long thought, however, I got into it with our contractor who quickly went from my awesome list to my sh#$ list. Which snapped me straight into the bitchy mood that I’d tried so hard to avoid.
It takes so little.
First I went off on Ali for refusing to recycle a stack of restaurant-related magazines, despite the fact that he’s never owned a restaurant and likely will never own a restaurant. This because we’ve established through much research / discussion / self-reflection that 99.9% of restaurants make no money before they inevitably fail within the first year.
Next I channeled my inner Tiger Mom by drilling Maya on her Serena Williams presentation, over and over, until she could recite Serena’s entire life from age 3 to the present in her sleep. Complete with the awkward fact that Serena “Now lives in Florida with her two dogs, where she oversees her clothing line with Nike.”
After that I decided to make homemade waffles (that nobody asked for) so I could complain about how dirty the kitchen is and then about how nobody appreciates my cooking. And after that?
I tried to figure out how people can stand me.
Despite the fact that I can’t read a map and sometimes have to use my fingers to do quick addition (don’t tell Maya) I think I’m a fairly intelligent person. That’s why it continues to amaze me that I cannot stop burning myself with a curling iron.
Yes, I did it again.
It started innocently enough: as I waited patiently for my Japanese straightening appointment, I tried to fix my broken hair by using every hot tool I could find to burn it into submission.
Unlike previous attempts, however, I made sure to put safety first:
- I curled in a well-lit room.
- I curled my hair away from my face.
- I remembered not to complicate things by using the clamp part of the iron.
What I didn’t remember was to get a firm grip on the iron. So of course it fell. On my forehead.
You might be thinking: “Wow Ameena. You’re pretty lucky…you could have been burned really badly!” And yes, I would agree with you. Except that for the last 5 days I’ve been walking around channeling Rudolph because right after the curling iron hit my forehead?
It hit my nose.
On the upside, you wouldn’t believe how many people find their way to my blog by searching the term: “I burned myself with a curling iron.”
I’m thinking a red nose is worth the few additional page views?
On Friday afternoon I did something completely out of the ordinary: I made an effort.
This translated to me putting in my contacts and wearing something other than black. I also changed my earrings, broke out the straightening iron, and even contemplated make up!
(Didn’t follow through with that one but I believe contemplation deserves recognition.)
I did all of this because I figured that instead of defrosting Trader Joe’s Turkey Meatballs or ordering takeout, we might actually go out for dinner. On a Friday night no less!
So after taking Maya to the doctor and Target, after a dropping off books at the library and then picking up milk, Maya and I returned home, excited about the endless possibilities for a dinner beyond my sad repertoire of pasta and omelets.
But then, this:
Ali – Clueless Comment #1: “Your hair looks really dry.”
Me, in my head: How does one respond to this?
Ali – Clueless Comment #2: “It looks like it might break any second.”
Me, in my head: Why thank you Ali. Nothing like a compliment to kick off my Friday evening.
Ali – Clueless Comment #3: “I think you need a better conditioner or something.”
To be honest, I wasn’t really offended as I know this is Ali trying to be “helpful.” Still, I put my glasses back on, took my diamond hoops off, and thanked my lucky stars I wasn’t dumb enough to put on makeup hours earlier. And then I said: “So are you picking up CPK or Cheesecake Factory for dinner tonight?”
And then immediately after that? I made the soonest Japanese straightening appointment I could get.