Thursday, February 12, 2009
Wherein I Return to Catalogue the Trials and Tribulations Of Being a Precocious Regency-Era Child Trapped in an Adult's Body in This Horrible Modern World.
When last we left Our Heroine (Me), she was being lured by the promise of filthy lucre into that vast iniquitous institution that is Big Law, lulled into a false sense of security by her charming little townhouse in the city and the infinite horizon of pretty shoes and handbags. Let us just say, Dear Reader, that Things Did Not Work Out. I made a valiant effort, but in the end, I would have had to give up an essential part of myself to thrive or even, really, to survive.
So I have passed from that place, somewhat wiser, somewhat more willing to compromise on the trivial, but with a a certain sense that there is a limit to the reach of my universe, such as it has been created. Which brings us, more or less, to the present day. Having linked my already ridiculously long name to someone else's I am now, even more horrifyingly, a wife. I am not sure what this word means, but I suppose it can be measured in the absolute value of the cataclysmic deviations from my even keel. For yes, it is true that I am, in fact, moving out of the City. To the suburbs. For the commute. I (or rather mostly my dear, dear Realtor) have packed up the comforting majority of my accumulated worldly goods that had in the easy passage of time accreted to my home reef in colorful disarray. Only a few bare pieces of bric a brac remain. Every few days I am uprooted for an hour or so so that someone can violate the sanctity of my sanctuary for their buying pleasure.
In the meantime, out in the great Marylandian wilds, I myself have been tromping through other peoples houses (I think the count is presently at 60), a little saddened by the sheer pigswill that passes for architecture these days. And so now it has come to this:
I am looking for an apartment.
If there is anything more depressing than trying to find temporary housing in the Baltimore area on a budget, I have not yet encountered it. And I've been to third world countries. These adventures in poverty are really only trying for the sole reason that I like to nest. But I have hope. Somewhere out there is a little castle just for me. Well, other than the Castle that I already found and fell in love with that my mother thinks isn't big enough for my shoe collection, but you get my point, I'm sure...