Today my husband looked at my W-2 from my summer employer and said, “Wow. That’s about what I make in two weeks.” Great. All the money I earned this summer is less than he makes in a month. Good thing I don’t have serious career aspirations, or I’d be feeling down about that.
But I’m not feeling down about that. I’m not feeling down about anything, really. This might have something to do with the fact that Michael and I finally got around to going out for our monthly margaritas. Mmmm.
I’m feeling good about the fact that we have a doctor’s appointment in a week, and from there we’ll be going forward to testing and all that sort of thing. In fact, maybe it’s a good thing that I got my period this month. Imagine me going in for an initial infertility consultation and saying, “Well, first of all, my period’s a week late.” I’d just look silly. In order to have infertility testing, you have to actually be infertile. Which we are. So take that!
Did I mention that my doctor is very short? This makes me insecure. Not because I don’t trust short people, but because short women make me feel elephantine and unfeminine. I’m 5’9”. Have I mentioned that? That is almost as tall as the average height for men! Average height for women is only 5’4”. So I’m huge, and when I’m around a short woman I feel like she is far more attractive than I am, and therefore more powerful. (I tried explaining this to Michael last night, but he just said I was being silly and pulled me in closer. Which was nice, but it didn’t change how I feel about short people. I’m still jealous.)
Hmm. My fingers still type just as fast as usual, but my head is sort of spinning. Tequila can do that to you, I guess. Also tequila can make you get all confused and off-topic. Not that other things don’t do that too, but you know what I mean. I’m telling you, Internet, you should be impressed by my devotion to you, because I am making myself stay seated on this couch and keep typing, instead of getting up to get some ice cream. Or go watch Strong Bad with my husband in the next room. I can hear it through the wall.
Oh, speaking of which, Internet (actually this is completely unrelated, but whatever), I remembered something I wanted to ask you. I was going to ask Miss Manners but then it occurred to me that she probably wouldn’t write me back, whereas you will. Because you love me. And all that. (Right? Please say nice things, I’m already depressed about being so freaking tall.) (Also about being not-pregnant, but gosh, I talk about that all the time, so I thought I’d focus on something else depressing. You know, to mix it up a little.)
My husband’s college roommate, who was also one of the groomsmen in our wedding, got married to this girl. As far as I can tell, she was raised pretty much manners-free. Honestly, every single time we’ve gotten together with them, since they started dating, she has said something that appalled or offended me. It’s awful.
Anyway, they have a baby (and I don’t want to get started on the injustice of THAT, so don’t let me) who is about five months old. I’m the oldest of six, so this girl (I’m going to call her Goosie, ‘cause she needs a name) thinks that I am good with babies. Which I am, sure, but I changed dozens of diapers before I turned ten, so don’t be all envious of me or anything. My childhood probably contained a lot more poop than yours did.
So Goosie wants to leave her baby with me, because she knows she can trust me. I like to be trusted, but hello? I’m infertile. It’s not like this is the easiest thing in the world for me. And I’ve told Goosie that we’re trying, too. But still she asks me to babysit. And I’ve done it, twice, because I like to be helpful. (Although one time I had her baby for three hours, which is plenty of time to get over the Canadian border from here, not that I would ever do that, but let’s just say three hours on my own with a baby did nothing to make me less wistful about my own situation.)
I’ve babysat twice, for free, and Goosie has never even written me so much as a thank-you note. (Miss Manners, if you happen to be reading this, I hope you’re scowling now, or at least shaking your head regretfully.) Did you get that? I perform free services for her, services which are emotionally draining for me, and she does not even write me a thank-you. I’m not a big stickler about thank-you notes, but I feel she should do something! At least she should bring me a candy bar.
But not so much as a mini-Snickers has appeared, and today Goosie emails me and asks me if I can babysit some time during the week of March 22nd, because she has to take a test that week, and she needs to schedule it. Now, first of all, I’m pretty sure Miss Manners would not approve of her doing this, emailing me TWO MONTHS in advance, so that I can’t even say that I’m busy, because who is busy two months in advance? And you can’t ask someone to do something unless you give them a chance to have an excuse. Goosie was clearly not giving me a chance to have an excuse.
Ha! I came up with one anyway. I told her that it’s the week before Easter (true) and that my teachers like to make things due right before Easter (true) and that my sister is flying up in the middle of the week (true) and that we’ll be out of town the second half of the week (true). I didn’t lie at all! But then she emailed me back and said something along the lines of, okay, that’s fine, it’s just that my husband’s schedule is always changing and my parents can’t watch the baby then, and I just need to take this test to finish my degree, but I totally understand that you can’t do it.
So now? I am feeling guilty. Guilty about telling her no, when if I really wanted to I could probably juggle my schedule around and make it possible for me to watch the baby for a couple hours. The real reason I said no (besides feeling that she is ungrateful) is simply that I don’t feel up to being alone with her baby for that long. But maybe that is just me being silly and weak.
Internet, I need to know: am I out of line? Should I email her back (her second email was clearly a second attempt to get me to do it) and tell her I can babysit after all? Is it okay to just ignore it, since she didn’t ask me for a response? What do I do? I need your advice.
And I’m going to stay up and read the comments as they come in, too. Because tequila doesn’t… doesn’t… doesn’t affect me at all. Nope. Not at allllllllll. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.