Ah, tis good to be home after my week of flagrant vacationing.
Yes, I had views like these.
© Tisha Clifford
© Tisha Clifford
But now I have views like these:
photo credit: Guilherme Sagas
Although she would be loathe to admit it, there are some ways in which YUD has been a late bloomer. For instance, although her mom made her get her first bra at the relatively unripened grade of sixth (and yes, it was mortifying), she didn’t truly learn to drive a car until past her 16th birthday (there were extenuating circumstances due to a certain soiree held while certain parents were out of town; the party-thrower was summarily punished via grounding, being required to write an essay on morals, and having to apologize to the neighbors (also mortifying).
Not thoroughly broken, however, YUD approached the end of her grounding only to engage in an episode of inebriation—this is the “I think I smoked some pills” incident of ‘92—that at this point should just be called a good learning experience about not mixing blackberry schnapps with Glenfiddich.
I’m forgoing brunch with friends in favor of staying home, seeing what’s on TV, and trying to get rid of my scratchy throat/aches/feelings of grave discontentment. I go into an office tomorrow to start a new temporary project, which is hunky-dory and “part-time” to allow for things like blogging and relationship-building and whatnot, but ugh! To be sick on the first day? Not fun.
Friday night I also stayed home (don’t worry, YUD hasn’t become permanently boring, it’s just this cold) and watched The Lavender Hill Mob, a movie that I’d initially borrowed from my good pals at Netflix on 6/16/09. I am not kidding; I just looked it up.
photo credit: ShellyS
Your Unemployed Daughter has never been the thriftiest sort. Remember how you had to put her on a strict budget when all those charges at the Georgetown Ann Taylor showed up during her college years? (She is loathe to recall exactly how many pink twin sets and linen skirts she actually purchased, or why, but she agrees that it was, indeed, grotesque.)
She got better after she graduated, toned down her “champagne tastes on a beer budget” (thanks, Mom) habits for a bit. She was particularly proud of the frugality evident in her choice of 33¢ boxes of off-brand macaroni and cheese.
Actually, it was nothing to be proud about, as that was all that remained in her checking account during those years of a $25,000 salary, 2 roommates, and a walkup frequented by johns visiting our next-door neighbors. Still, back then she had fun crashing parties and eating all the cheese her tiny stomach could hold, or stealing salt and pepper shakers and wine glasses from restaurants when the need arose.
