So…my brother is getting married tomorrow. I’m still reeling from that concept. My baby brother is getting married tomorrow.
For the better part of five months, I was torn as to whether or not I wanted to go to said wedding. My “Ego” was decidedly against. My “Superego” was decidedly for. And my “Id”…uh…wanted to bang a bridesmaid. (He only counts as half a vote.) The “yay”-s won out by a fair margin.
The months leading up to the pending nuptials did give me time to reflect on one thing, though. A simple thought occurred to me as the matrimonial rev-up began - completely selfish, mind you. That thought was, I’ve been living with family members for ALL of my post-collegiate life.
A sad revelation, to say the least.
Even sadder since I was booted from my brother’s place to make way for the new bride, and (mostly) forced back in with my sister and niece. This was a move I did not want to make. Again. I say, “Again,” because his had happened a few times before.
Let me start from the beginning.
After graduating college, I had only one place to go. Like a lot of post-grads, I moved back into my parent’s place. I was at a distinct advantage, though, because they weren’t there, anymore. The three-story house they once occupied was now tenanted by my sister’s family. And now me.
I figured this would be a springboard. I’d save up enough money, find a place of my own, and move on with my life as a super-dee-duper famous writer…or something. This was only for a year, right? Or so I told myself.
And indeed it was…but not in the way I wanted. The parents decided to move back to Oregon. Sis, bro-in-law and niece were ousted back to a condo that my sister owned. I followed suit soon after. I didn’t like the idea of being in my late-20s - living with my parents. The move was hectic, but the arrangement worked out. It was only going to be for a couple of years, right? Or so I told myself.
And indeed it was…but not in the way I expected. Sis got a job in another part of the state, took niece-y-poo with her. Bro-in-law and I found a third roommate in the form of a redheaded friend of mine, and the reverse-version Three’s Company began. It was like a sitcom, but I didn’t mind. It was only going to be for a year, right? Or so I told myself.
And indeed it was…in a way better than I had hoped. My brother had returned from college around the same time, and he wanted to move out of the parental abode. We came up with a roommate situation, found an apartment, and figured we would go in together on a house at some later date. It was only going to be for a year, right? Or so I told myself.
And indeed it was…in an even better way than planned. We were both still far too poor to afford a house (or a loan), but the parents decided to high-tail it to Wyoming. Unfortunately, they weren’t able to sell the three-story behemoth. They asked us to “house-sit” for an undetermined period of time. Added bonus: Cheapo rent.
My brother and I ate this s**t up with a spork. Granted, the parents left an added clause in the verbal agreement that they could visit whenever they wanted, but neither of us planned on being around for that long. We told ourselves: It was only going to be for a year…right?
And indeed it was…in the worst possible way. The parents changed the agreement and moved back…while we were still there.
That lasted for maybe three months before the both of us simply had it! We went house-hunting.
I would never in a million years be able to afford a house on my own. My brother would never be able to qualify for a zero-down home loan on his own. But with my name and his financial backing, we both were ideal loan fodder. Especially since this was after the housing bubble burst. My credit score was amazing…at the time.
We found a cozy little place on the fringes of Beaverton. Both of us occupied said small house for three-ish years. In that time, I got a cat; my brother got a dog. I remained single; my brother got a girlfriend. I…still remained single; and my brother…got engaged.
Knowing that a wedding was on the horizon in the next year or so, I made the preliminary strike. There were two vacation trips pending for the summer to follow. Not even during a good financial season would I have been able to afford a move and a vacation.
My brother agreed that we would discuss the “move-out” issue at around midsummer. Well, he couldn’t wait that long. He said, “So…our wedding is in August. I’m not kicking you out right away but…”
Then the panic attacks started en masse.
There was no way I was going to afford a place on my own (as per usual). If I had to move over the summer, then that meant my vacation plans were off. Or so I thought…
Mother came through with the offer of a plane ticket. Sis came through with an offer of a place to live. At first, I was hesitant to live with my other sibling again, having been scarred by this current marital debacle with the other sibling. That…and the deal was tied with my mother’s finances. If I refused to move in with sis, there went my vacation plane ticket.
So, in early July, while sick as a dog, I moved into a new apartment with my sister and niece. The place is quite nice. My room has a great view, and I’m pretty much left to my own devices. It’s not an ideal scenario, but then again…nothing would’ve been.
My idea of ideal is a cobblestone house in the middle of a woodsy nowhere surrounded by trees that emit a really sweet WiFi signal.
Another thought occurred to me in this process. As difficult as the familial racquetball living arrangement game has been, I had to view it from a different angle. I wasn’t the easiest person to live with either. I was slovenly, sloth-like, prone to irritability, and often resistant to change. My family was often putting up with me. It was probably no picnic for them having to shovel me along with all their stuff with every move.
All I can say is, the situation could be much worse. I could have no place to live with at all. And no Internet. And besides…
It’s only for a year…right?
So, I’m going to enjoy my brother’s wedding. It’s a happy occasion. My “Ego” is picking out ties. My “Superego” is sated. And don’t worry…
I’ll make sure my “Id” uses protection.
2 Comments to Living with Family: A Comedy of Errands
Leave a comment
- November 2013
- October 2013
- September 2013
- August 2013
- July 2013
- May 2013
- February 2013
- January 2013
- December 2012
- November 2012
- October 2012
- September 2012
- August 2012
- July 2012
- June 2012
- May 2012
- April 2012
- March 2012
- January 2012
- December 2011
- November 2011
- October 2011
- September 2011
- August 2011
- July 2011
- June 2011
- May 2011
- April 2011
- February 2011
- December 2010
- November 2010
- July 2010
- August 2009
- June 2009
- May 2009
- April 2009
- March 2009
- February 2009
- January 2009
- December 2008
- November 2008