4. Your pipes probably won’t burst.
And flood the basement. For the 3rd time.
Those pipes? Solid as plastic. Or copper. Rusted-through copper.
I’m trying to tell you to make friends with those neighbors who have the real skills. You know, welding, electrical, plumbing, cooking, juggling, etc. They’re the best to call at 3 a.m. to inform them that your water heater exploded.
Neighbors like me = the best ever.
5. Your kid probably won’t fracture her arm and get transported to the ER in an ambulance.
Why, that’s specific, Kiera, you might say. Does this look like a face that would lie to you?
Our 911 calls happen only when my spouse is gone, so
how come you think you’re special it will also happen to you. I implore you to remember that.
Broken bones, chopped fingers, cracked heads: They’re-a-coming. When the reality of your 911 call happens (and it will!), remember that you have a friend out there (me! me! me!) who will buy you a one-way ticket to Somewhere Else.
6. You probably won’t have a snowriffic blizzard and have to shovel your Mount Everest driveway and lose city power and wear poofy, air-dried hair to the airport to pick up your spouse you haven’t seen in nine months.
I just can’t make this stuff up.
On a scale from 1 to important, this stuff is LEGIT.
Stop trying to improve yourself. The answer is to UNIMPROVE.
The sooner you drop those expectations of what you WANT to do and embrace the expectations of what’s REALLY gonna happen, much like taking off a bra at the end of the day, you will feel the freeing feeling of mediocrity slip in and take over.
Just give in already, so we can chat about feeding our kids animal crackers for dinner.