I’m undergoing a mid-life crisis, not for the first time. I’ve been thinking about changing my internet handle, from Madhousewife to Badhousewife. It’s cool because it has a double meaning–bad like “she never does the dishes” and also bad like “baaaaaaaad.” You know? She’s bad, she’s bad, you know it, you know it? Can you dig it? Then of course people will have to call me “Bad” for short, but nothing’s perfect. Look, it’s still in the development stages. I’m not married to it or anything.
One of the things that happened during this Summer of Our Blogging Famine was that Sugar Daddy decided that the body-damaged ’97 Ford Taurus that he’s been driving since 2002 was no longer good enough for him and he needed a new car. So he bought one. Just like that! It’s a Nissan Maxima, I forget what year. He got a very good deal on it. (I believe the scientific term is “screaming deal,” or at least that’s the way he always refers to it.) Now the other men respect him (a little bit). I think he respects himself a little more, too.
He thinks I am jealous of the new car. No, he wants me to be jealous of the new car, because it is so awesome and I’m still driving the same 2000 Ford Windstar with the passenger window that doesn’t roll down and the heater that only works in the back and not the front and the rear windshield wiper that hasn’t wiped anything since the first Bush II administration. But I am not jealous. I don’t require that much of my vehicles. (No, really.) Actually, I find SD’s car a little too fancy for my tastes. There are so many…features. Heated seats, heated steering wheel–actually, the heated seats are nice, but I still don’t know how to turn them on. Or off, for that matter, and that is a problem in itself.
I’m not that impressed with the heated steering wheel; I admit I haven’t actually used it yet (don’t know how to turn it on), but just the idea of it seems kind of silly. Really, your steering wheel is too cold? Come on. Now, if the steering wheel had air-conditioning, that would be something else. Who hasn’t had the experience of getting inside your car on a blistering summer day and the steering wheel is too hot to touch, let alone steer? A fancy, fast-acting steering-wheel coolant would come in really handy in that event. But has technology caught up with my imagination? Apparently not.
The other day I drove Mister Bubby to school in the Maxima because the Maxima was available and SD has turned his son into a bona fide automobile snob. I started the car and then had to go back inside the house to ask SD how to turn on the windshield wipers. I don’t know a lot about cars, but I’ve been driving them for 20 years and I feel like I shouldn’t need to consult the instruction manual every time I need to perform a basic car function. I don’t have a problem with the car being smarter than I am. I have a problem with the car lording it over me every time I get in it. People need their dignity.
I will be jealous of the car when it gets an iPod adapter. That would be badass.
Speaking of fancy gadgets, there’s something wrong with my dryer door. It keeps opening randomly during the drying cycle. At first SD thought it was the gasket. Now he thinks the door is just warped. So now when I start up the dryer, I wait for the door to open up again (sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t), and then I shut it again and pound it in key places with a large mallet. I ask you, is this the lifestyle to which I’ve become accustomed?
My insurance company offers a free benefit that I have decided to take advantage of. It is recommended for people who suffer from depression and anxiety. I get phone consultations with a life coach. A life coach! Doesn’t that seem very…I don’t know…made up? Something a Hollywood actress would do because therapy is passe? Life coaching isn’t meant to replace therapy, incidentally. I’m just telling you. I think my insurance company is based in Minnesota, so all their life coaches–who are licensed therapists but not meant to replace licensed therapists–are in Minnesota, and I have to say, so far I have only had one session with my life coach but I think I am going to enjoy this relationship because there are few things I find more charming than a Minnesota accent.
Anyway, I’m supposed to get a workbook in the mail. A workbook! (In the mail!) I must admit, a workbook sounds significantly less like something a Hollywood actress would be involved in, but then, a Hollywood actress would probably have live-and-in-person sessions with her life coach instead of over the phone, and probably she would pay for them herself because anything that’s provided free by your insurance is not worth having. But that is the Hollywood mentality, not mine. I like free stuff with a Minnesota accent. Even when it’s accompanied by a workbook.
I will have to get back to you on how the life-coaching-by-phone-and-workbook pans out, as it is still in the development stages, much like my new internet moniker.
Here’s something else in the development stages: Princess Zurg is getting braces. She is not happy about it, but that’s to be expected. Who cares about her? Let’s get back to me. When I was a kid, I thought braces looked cool. I kind of wanted them, until I found out that they’re actually kind of a pain. Then I didn’t want them so much, I guess. My dentist thought I should have them, and my dentist was right, but my parents couldn’t really afford them, so when the orthodontist said my teeth wouldn’t fall out if I didn’t get them, that was good enough for them and I didn’t get them. Which was fine. My life has not been a tragedy as a result of their neglect. I do have issues with my bite, though, and as I’ve aged I’ve thought, “I wonder if this is going to get worse. Should I get braces after all?” I have some friends who have gotten braces as adults. I’ve been talking with SD about getting braces for the last couple years, at least, but I’ve never gotten around to actually seeing an orthodontist and finding out what the damage would be.
Until now! PZ gets her braces on September 30, and on that same day I get my consultation with the orthodontist. Because what Madhousewife needs is not a new car or a new dryer, but a new smile! Actually, braces does seem like kind of a waste on a person who rarely smiles, but that is not the issue. Maybe once my teeth are fixed, I’ll smile more often. Maybe new teeth will do what a good husband and four beautiful children have failed to do: bring me ultimate happiness. I don’t know. I have found myself getting more anxious about the whole thing as my consultation approaches. I won’t be able to actually get the braces until next spring, when we get a significant influx of cash wherewith to pay for said braces, and by that time PZ will have had her braces for about six months. Will I see her suffering and think, “Dude, I do not want that to happen to me”? Will I lose my nerve? Or will I have renewed braces envy? Or will the Windstar give up the ghost and force me to buy a fancy new Japanese car that I will need a special workbook and life coach to help me learn to drive? Will my teeth always come last?
Actually, it’s hard to imagine that my teeth will always come last. I still brush daily and occasionally floss. I think the part of my body that’s really coming last is my abdominal muscles. They’re pretty bitter about it, too. But that subject will have to wait for another day. Happy Thursday, amigos.