Sometimes when we visit Brian’s sister and her husband in Boston I feel like Goldilocks.
Leslie and Jestin live in the bottom floor of a big suburban house with a husky puppy and two persnickety cats. Their house is filled with furniture and accoutrements that we have absolutely no room for. They even have cable and an Xbox! And they now own a car, a hybrid such as I’d like to get someday.
Their neighborhood in Brookline is idyllic. We sat on their covered porch yesterday watching the lime-green leaves slowly unfurling on the street trees and conversed casually with a man walking his dog. We sipped wine and took in the quiet freshness one can never experience in New York.
I’m beginning to wonder if the avowed irresponsibility that prohibits me from getting a dog, a cat, or even a fish isn’t rather an unwillingness to grow up. I’m usually fine with our tiny, sparsely furnished apartment, ‘man chow’ dinners, and a thriftiness that extends to stealing our neighbor’s wireless signal and using rabbit ears to catch broadcast TV.
But it’s awfully nice to try on a different kind of life, one where there’s room to spread out and there are breathing fuzzy animals that depend on you to act like an adult. It’s nice for a couple days and then it’s back to our industrial Brooklyn street with its resident homeless guy and forklifts beeping at all hours of the night. But at least I’m free from car payments.
Leslie and Jestin live in the bottom floor of a big suburban house with a husky puppy and two persnickety cats. Their house is filled with furniture and accoutrements that we have absolutely no room for. They even have cable and an Xbox! And they now own a car, a hybrid such as I’d like to get someday.Their neighborhood in Brookline is idyllic. We sat on their covered porch yesterday watching the lime-green leaves slowly unfurling on the street trees and conversed casually with a man walking his dog. We sipped wine and took in the quiet freshness one can never experience in New York.
I’m beginning to wonder if the avowed irresponsibility that prohibits me from getting a dog, a cat, or even a fish isn’t rather an unwillingness to grow up. I’m usually fine with our tiny, sparsely furnished apartment, ‘man chow’ dinners, and a thriftiness that extends to stealing our neighbor’s wireless signal and using rabbit ears to catch broadcast TV.
But it’s awfully nice to try on a different kind of life, one where there’s room to spread out and there are breathing fuzzy animals that depend on you to act like an adult. It’s nice for a couple days and then it’s back to our industrial Brooklyn street with its resident homeless guy and forklifts beeping at all hours of the night. But at least I’m free from car payments.
4 comments:
I think we do OK for ourselves in spite of it all. But I agree... it was nice while it lasted.
In the documentary "Comedian," Seinfeld tells this story about show business (paraphrased):
It’s the dead of winter. The members of the Glenn Miller Orchestra are headed for a gig when their bus breaks down. The musicians grab their instruments and, with no other option, begin slogging through the snow. Eventually, they come across a cozy little home. Gazing inside, they watch a family gathered around the dinner table, talking, laughing, reveling in the warmth of each other’s company. Damp and shivering, they stare a little longer at this Norman Rockwell painting come to life, complete with apple-cheeked children, before one turns to the other and says: "How do people live like that?"
That's what it's all about.
Sort of.
"Comedian" is a good flick though; check it out if you haven't already.
I forget: did Goldilocks get eaten? But they wanted to eat her, right? Are you saying my sister eats children?
Blondes have more fun... GOING DOWN OUR BELLIES!
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