I’m in the midst of a lot of transition and decisions this week with being hired for a new job, signing the contract, and looking at a billion duplexes to find a place to rent. It’s so exciting, but also a bit stressful. And after three different jobs (for me, Mike’s had about four!) and three different places in less than two years of marriage, I’m afraid change will be the norm for us.
It occurred to me – accepting a job and renting an apartment are kind of like getting married after one date. (Sometimes two.)
When you tour an apartment or go for an interview, you don’t get to poke and prod and see the less-presentable side of things. You don’t imagine how it will look when it’s messy. You don’t think about how it will feel on a Monday to drag yourself to work.
What if we rent an apartment and realize that the closets are terrible, or the kitchen drawers don’t open, or there’s a stain we didn’t notice on the floor?
What if my work will expect me to work 80 hours a week and my boss will be much meaner than she seemed? And a cubicle will start to look appealing again.
Everyone always laughs at me when I tell them I have a commitment problem, since I’m happily married. But I’m the girl who, when everyone else responded with a cute little “teacher!” or “graduate school!” in their future plans questionnaire, replied:
“I have too many career goals for one lifetime – including freelance graphic designer, independent craft artist, campus minister/exploring social justice with students, teaching computer technology and graphic design at a high school, opening a coffee shop, and being a mother. Only slightly ambitious.”
Yeah, I think this may be an issue.
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