That is about where my stream of consciousness stopped. And I caught my breathe, chilled out, and realized that I had complete control over this and that I didn't have to have that lifestyle. Although, if my mom has her way I will, which is why I can't stay at Martin's Cove forever. Because, little 5 second visions like this one can only be attributed to one influence and that is Mamma Dial.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Elyse The Betrothed
The other day, over dinner, my mother explained to me, my little brother, and Eli that the reason I shouldn't be so adverse to marriage is because my "eggs expire". Apparently, since I am not a man I don't have time to wait like they do. Well, I thought about this, and for a brief moment, we're talking a miniscule glimpse in time, I pictured my life as Elyse The Betrothed. It started in my black and white IKEA kitchen, you know, the one you see on that commercial. I had all these great accessories from Pottery Barn and Williams and Sonoma and an apron to match. I imagined a day without deadlines, except when the timer goes off telling me that the dinner I've been carefully cooking is ready. Time to set the table now. But, at my leisure because dinnertime is on my watch. And no one says when dinner is ready except me. Because I am the boss of the kitchen. And the next day, say, I'd like to sleep until 10 a.m., I can. Because the bacon is going to brought home whether or not I wake up early. And I will have a husband (on an outside note, the actual word sends shivers down my spine and makes me want to hit all men upside the head, but I will continue) who will come home and ask me how my day was and I will recount to him the baking and television watching and laundry folding and the running. OH THERE WILL BE RUNNING. Whenever I want. I won't have to squeeze a run in before my shower in the morning. I could run in the middle of the day, like when I was sixteen and had no responsibilities and I ran in the middle of the day. And it was great. I will also tell him about all the great shopping I did with HIS money. See that? Not my money. No dents on my bank account. I will be like, "Oh, honey, by the way, that charge on the Nordstrom card needs to be paid if you wouldn't mind." And, he won't mind. Because I cooked dinner! And that's what he needed from me. Well, that and something else, which I will do willingly. As long as he pays for my shopping!