Foxy Mama's Blog

Stories, musings and ramblings from the front porch. Pull up a rocking chair and sit for a spell...

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Tuesday, August 10, 2004

The apartment! (No not the movie...)

Day after day, the litany went “you’re stupid, not normal, crazy…I can’t wait until you’re 18 and move out on your own!” Hah, you and me both I thought. And it can’t come soon enough to suit me. But I didn’t say that; not out loud anyway. I thought it though. In fact, I thought about it all the time.

It was a dream. Peace! Independence! No one constantly yelling at me, belittling me, accusing me, making me do her housework. I would do my own housework. I would cook for myself and upon occasion, for my friends too. I would keep the refrigerator door open as long as I wanted, leave the lights on as long as I wanted, keep my own bedtime schedule and go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and flush, not having to worry about disturbing Her Sweetness’ sleep. And, I could go barefoot in the house as much as I wanted and not have to be chastised by “Her Sweetness” for leaving feet prints on the bare floors. I could keep the windows open an inch or even two during the night if I wanted and not have to hear about ‘letting all the heat out.’ Oh gosh, did I dream of all that…

Is that crazy? Perfectly normal, I should think… And I was almost 18… Ohboy! A life of freedom was almost at hand. The time was near. I’ll show her. I will prevail. I will prevail! I started searching the newspapers for rental notices. I had a little bit of money. I had an after school job in a travel agency. I had saved money from other jobs. I was always working somewhere…at an apple farm, a farm and produce store, an ice cream bar, wherever and whatever I could find. I was always questioning the Guidance Counselors and checking the bulletin board in the Guidance Office in high school for postings of temporary positions. I loved working! I had lots of experiences and I was working toward a serious goal…independence.

I constantly baby sat and would continue doing that because I loved kids and was very attached to my little ‘charges.’ I had been ‘sitting’ in one way or another since I was little more than 10 years old myself, starting with young cousins and working into a regular thriving business in my teens. Her Sweetness was saying ‘here’s your hat, what’s your hurry,’ while freedom and real life were beckoning. Soon now, real soon…

Finally, the day came to realize the dream. I was to graduate in June and my 18th birthday was April 7th. At 18 a young woman comes of legal age and can do as she pleases as long as she accepts the responsibility for it. My grandparents and my dear uncle with the same first name as mine were up visiting from Ohio. Unc and I always got along famously and we used to go for long rides and talk of everything under the sun. He was a keen guy (and still is!) I found a couple of ads for affordable apartments, one of which sounded like the model of perfection for me. I played hooky from school for a day, persuaded Unc to take me out looking and off we went… unbeknownst to Her Sweetness, my Dad (my stepdad actually), and my grandparents.

I don’t even remember if I saw any more than one apartment. After all, I saw ‘the’ apartment and signed on the dotted line, forked over my hard won cash and received the key to my new apartment!!! Ohboy-ohboy-ohboy… The landlord and his wife lived downstairs and she believed in the evil eye and had these eye stickers or something all over the place. So add intrigue and suspense to the package…

My apartment was up the outside stairs to a nice little porch overlooking the backyard, that I could sit out on and then through a door to a tiny sitting room, then a decent sized bedroom with a double bed…did I mention that the apartment was completely furnished with semi-decent furniture, a small kitchen and a nice size bathroom. Oh, it was heaven to a newly 18 year old woman who had dreamed of ‘her own place’ for so long. Boy, I couldn’t wait until Her Sweetness spoke the litany again…

I swore Unc to secrecy. He said he wasn’t going to say anything because he didn’t want to get in the middle of anything heavy and we agreed that mentioning it to mother, I mean Her Sweetness, while grandmother and grandad were there, would never do. And at that time of my life I hadn’t accepted my stepdad as DAD yet so I wasn’t going to tell him either.

Oh, I can tell you that key nearly ‘burned’ a hole in my pocket while I lovingly fondled it and waited for the big chance… I had to wait almost a week which was practically intolerable because I sat on the biggest news of the century for heaven’s sake! My own apartment, fully loaded too. I loved my grandparents dearly but it seemed that April as if they’d never leave. They did finally and then…

She said it…the magic litany of words which had been faithfully intoned for as long as I could remember. She said “you’re stupid, not normal, crazy…I can’t wait until you’re 18 and move out on your own!” Aha!! The time had finally come. The coup de grace. Whoopee! My big chance. The line of my life. I said “well, you won’t have to wait any longer because I’m moving out this weekend.” And I brandished my KEY…

“WHAT?! What’s that you say? You’re moving out! What do you mean you’re moving out?! When? Where? How? What are you saying?! You can’t do that…” She was clearly shocked, she hadn’t really expected me to follow through apparently.”

I am, I am moving out this weekend to my own apartment and it’s a wonderful apartment and I can hardly wait! You said you couldn’t wait until I was 18 and moved out…well, I’m now 18 and I’m going. You can come to visit me if you’d like but it’s my apartment.”

We went on like this for awhile and I told her where and what and how and all that. She wondered what I planned about school since I still had almost 2 months left before graduation. I’d walk, I told her. The apartment wasn’t that far from the high school (in Framingham)…after all, we were bussed over to Framingham from Sherborn where we lived anyway. “How will you pay the rent?” she asked. “I have my job after school, remember, and they’ve assured me it will become full-time right after graduation. And I’ll still babysit…”

“Oh…when can I see it? Is it nice? Ooooh, I’ll miss you…” Yeah, right.

So we went for a ‘look-see’ at the apartment and Her Sweetness oohed and ahed over the place. She had to admit it was a pretty nice little place…just right for me. A private entrance, nice little ‘sit-out-on’ porch, tiny cozy little sitting room, decent size bedroom, small but adequate eat-in kitchen, full bathroom. All furnished, clean and somewhat affordable, if I was very prudent. What more could a person want? Indeed…

As we sat at the kitchen table in an amiable truce, discussing the charms of this little place, Her Sweetness started looking around the kitchen and suddenly burst into hysterical laughter…something usually totally alien to this woman. “What?!” I asked. This was a very perplexing reaction, I must say. “Something’s missing,” she said. “Something very important! Look around very carefully” she said. “Think about coming in and cooking a meal and cleaning up after…” I did and suddenly I burst into hysterical laughter too. Something definitely was missing.

There were cupboards, a small 2-burner stove and oven, a small refrigerator, a tiny broom closet, dishes, pots and pans, a nice little table and 2 chairs. Oh…and a nice little window to let the light in. But…there was something missing! Can you figure out what it was?

There was NO kitchen sink!!! Just like in the old adage, “everything but the kitchen sink!”

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