Moose in the Kitchen

Helping Kristin and Scott move into their new apartment – not that I helped so much as I stood in the hallway exercising my pointer finger and realizing how much Spanish I’ve forgotten – I marveled over how much space they have. Room after room after room that wouldn’t require your average eagle to clip six inches off each wing should he want to move in (not that many eagles are scanning the housing ads, but hey, eagles need crown molding too). When I found out how much they’re paying for it, my eyes widened and my wallet screamed shrilly at me. After eating far more pizza than I actually earned in their unpacked kitchen, I went home and scoured Craigslist. If my eyes don’t deceive me, I should be able to get a bigger apartment in a decent neighborhood for less than I’m paying now. AN APARTMENT WHERE I COULD HAVE A DOG. A DOG, I SAY.

DID YOU HEAR ME ABOUT THAT DOG?

No more walking up and down Haight Street searching for chocolate Lab puppies to molest! No more wondering plaintively if I could con my friends out of a house key so I could go hang out with Buster the be-sweatered chihuahua while they’re at work! But even as I’m moving on – even if Moving On is still in the planning/hoping/wishing stage – it’s good to look at where I am and really appreciate it. (Before it gets relegated to memory for the BIGGER & BETTER.) (Ahem.) My apartment is admittedly hallway-shaped, but it has the original 1919 kitchen and hardwood floors and it’s all mine to do precisely what I please. Even if what I please is tends to be watching sappy movies and knitting stripey hats. I love it and will be sorry to leave. (DOG!)

In a broader sense, regardless of apartment or city, living in the here and now is pretty insane. We have almost instant access to virtually everything our little hearts could desire. This hit me over the head with a cinnamon scented whiffle bat a few weeks ago as I was staring at the freshly-baked morning buns and cranberry scones and garlic bagels in the glass case at Roland’s. Behind the counter, men rolled dough and pulled things out of ovens, because that’s what they do – make fresh bagels and pumpkin muffins for people like me. Do you ever think about that? If you want something specific to eat, you can have it, by making it or buying it or having it delivered. If you hear and love a song, you can download it right off your computer and onto a little device where you can listen to it on constant and sometimes nauseating replay. Even things like going to Spain or New Orleans are fully possible – it just takes a little more effort to make it happen. Sitting at your computer, right this instant, you have access to so much knowledge and pretty pictures of places you’ve never been, all via that handy little Google search box. This is something I tend to forget in the course of every day life. My Danish great-grandmother, sitting in her little house in the Michigan (Wisconsin?) (wait, where are we from?) tundra couldn’t have fathomed the scope of my life now.

She could have fathomed the main points, I’m sure. Find Love and Expand Career (and, of course, Get Dog) are pretty universal and weather awkward time travel fairly well. (Except maybe the Expand Career bit. She may not have gotten that. Because career in her case was probably more along the lines of Churn Butter Before It Freezes and Raise Children To Healthy Adulthood.) But it’s easy to forget what you have in the pursuit of what you want. And thanks for tactfully ignoring ye olde soap box and letting me flap my mouth about this. I need to flap somewhat regularly, lest I forget and sink into an ungrateful mire.

In Avoidance of Ungrateful Mire:

I get to write here at this blog, something I really, truly love. I’ve had some essays published and I know there will be more, upon throwing some muscle behind the endeavor. I have friends who will go see The Bright River with me for the third time and who will invite me to pose for prom pictures (with alarming demonic overtones in my case) and eat cheese. After Holly’s 30th birthday soiree, Leah and Simon offered me a ride home. I’ve gotten so used to seeing myself home after drunken revelry – whether by bus, cab, or the far-less-intelligent-though-admittedly-cheaper walking – that this was a huge and very specific treat. All these pieces make for a wonderful life.

What you want doesn’t always have to look like you think it will. At least, not right now.

But in a couple of years, I expect circumstances will conform to my drafted life spreadsheets. Circumstances everywhere now cower in fear. THE SPREADSHEET COMETH.

Related posts:

1. Puppy Love, My Left Foot
2. God Bless American Goats
3. My Love Is True and Unyielding. Until the Fire Alarm Goes Off.
4. The Answer is 42
5. This Thing Should Be Called Diary of a Neurotic, Good Lord