Reasons I’m a Little Bit Sad Today
1. I was seriously craving the Fantasy sandwich from Baba Yega today, but none of my friends wanted to go out to lunch, and I don’t have the emotional fortitude to go by myself. So, no sandwich for me.
2. I have to save up as much money as humanly possible for the house I hope to buy. That means: no shopping for new clothes or other unnecessary crap that I would normally buy. So, my normal Lunch Plan B of going to TJ Maxx and buying a bunch of discounted imperfect honey-scented shower gel? No longer viable.
3. Not that I’m a hardcore clotheshorse or anything (anymore), but it is nice to update one’s wardrobe for spring. And, for the reason mentioned in Number 2 above, I will not be doing that. So – I am dowdy.
4. I’m not sad about my plan to get a house, but I am a little saddened by the prosect of maybe paying a really high escrow and thereby having to refrain from shopping for quite a while longer. Having to get used to not buying fun things. Having, like some of my coworkers with big mortgaes, to eat Cup O’Soup for lunch on a daily basis, maybe. It’ll all be worth it if I get a nice house (and eventually make more money), but still. The prospect is a tiny bit grim.
5. I haven’t written anything new and good yet. I can’t think of anything new and good enough. It makes me feel constipated. It makes me feel lazy.
6. I am, maybe, sort of, a tiny bit sad about having to leave Houston’s Inner Loop. I know – no one cares. Only other people born and rasied in the Inner Loop know what I mean, and they’ve tried to share sadness with me, but I brush them away. Must remain stoic. It won’t do to be sad, when I am obviously making the best choice I can make, seeing as how my kids did not make it into the schools I’d hoped to get them into, and are instead obliged to go to the same middle and high school that I myself went to, if we remain at our current residence inside the Loop.
Actually, in all honesty, I’m a little more angry than sad. In my secret, paper journal that I keep in a drawer at home, someone wrote, “FUCK YOU, INNER LOOP. FUCK YOU AND THE RICH, GENTRIFYING FUCKS WHO INHABIT YOUR WOMB!!!”
Maybe that someone was me. Maybe I feel a little betrayed by the fact that I can’t afford to live in the neighborhoods that I loved and defended for so long. Maybe I’m obsessively haunted by the fantasy that my straight-A, gifted-and-talented kid got waiting-listed at number 245 for the same school his older brother went to because there were 245 golf-playing, school-boardmember-nepostizing Republicans who decided they felt like moving from the suburbs into the Loop this year.
Or maybe I’m just bitter that, despite all my hard work, I have not made and maybe never will make enough money to do what I want. It isn’t the gentrifying rich people’s fault that they have more money than me and that they finally realize how beautiful the Inner Loop is, is it? It’s not their fault that their kids had better waiting-list luck than mine, or that my oldest kid didn’t do as well in his auditions as theirs did. No. And, hey – if I were those people, I’d move here, too.
The suburb I’m planning to move to is very nice. I’m sure our lives there will be very nice. Everything will be nice, and we will be happy, or I will wear myself to a bloody stump trying to make it so. 
7. It’s lunch time now, and I’m sitting at my desk typing sad thoughts instead of eating the Fantasy Sandwich at Baba Yega.
That’s it. I’m getting up. I’m driving to my (tree-roach-and-mouse-inhabited) Inner Loop apartment, just two minutes away, to get something to eat and snap the hell out of it.
