Right now, it’s the wee morning hours and I’m trying to catch some Z’s before I have to start a long, grueling weekend. Not only will I be forced to get better acquainted with the town and its surrounding towns (holy crackwhore, I live in a “town”!), but I have to do so while plagued by a neverending tropical cold. Of course.
I tried spraying disinfectant on everything, but the size of the house and the revolt of my body have conspired against me. I’ll just have to wait on the maid.
This brings me to my to-do list, which includes school registration, buying furniture and other assorted items for the house, joining the gym, breaking in the maid and nanny, and generally figuring out how I came to be the type of person who employs a maid and nanny. I take pride in my child-rearing and house-keeping skills, and the fact that I’m passing off these responsibilities – to strangers, no less! – bothers the shit out of me.
Slowly, I’m finding myself transformed by the laid-back attitude of my neighbors, my tropical surroundings, and my privileged lifestyle. I’ve already begun sketching out designs for dresses and located a seamstress to make my ideas into realities; I’ve started plans on a few minor renovations to the house; I’ve acquired the airs deemed necessary to run a household with hired help. And it all seems so sudden, so surreal. I can’t quite put my finger on them, but the changes are so drastic that even my blogging voice is changing. Pretty soon, I’m sure, I’ll have forgotten about my wild New York City escapades; they’ll seem like episodes of intrigue that happened to a stranger.
So before this long weekend and its subsequent days take all vestiges of my former life as a crazy, single, childless, reckless, mischievous, manipulative, drama-addicted woman-child away, I have to reread the words I’ve written and remember when they felt like my own. I wonder if it’ll still be easy to slip into old issues? If I’ll be able to write in the same sexy voice? If it’s possible for the old me and the new me to coexist?