Let All the Clowns Roll Away

When we were a family with 2 good incomes, we found a fantastic house that was comfortably within our budget. Its main benefit is that it faces a busy park. I can watch the people come and go at all hours of the day and night. I'm a big city girl and I love the sounds and the commotion. Now that we are a family where one of us has a salary at or near the poverty level, the living expenses aren't so comfortable.

We recently brought out some additional furniture so that the visiting relatives could sit with us in the living room. (Apparently, they don't like to be kept in the basement.) This required us to put one of the chairs facing the window out to the park, rather than facing the t.v. (I know. Can you imagine? We were all thrown off for a good while.)

The chair we happened to put facing the park was my mom's that she had covered in that yellow and red floral fabric that you would totally recognize if you were ever in a Calico Corners in Texas in the early 90s. And, of course, she got the coordinating red with yellow floral arm chairs to match. These go not at all with my mid-century modern decor, but my main memory of my mom is of her curled up in that yellow with red chair (not the red with yellow chair), glass of wine at her feet.

Last night, I turned on the t.v. and sat in my mom's yellow with red chair. Finding it very hard to turn my head Linda Blair style to watch the t.v., I decided to turn off the t.v. and the lights and put on the Ray Lamontagne. I sat there in the dark, listening to music, watching the snow fall outside and the cars go by and the joggers run in the park, jogging even though it was snowing because people in this city are fucking nuts that way. [No outdoor exercise to commence for me unless the temp is 60 or above. No wind. And Sunny. With 10 new songs for the iPod. And then only at high-noon.]

It was perfect. I just let myself sit there at peace.

When I allowed myself to start stressing again, the first thing I thought of was that there was no possible way we could lose this great house and I had to do everything I could to help keep it. Then I started to feel overwhelmed. I haven't put anything in retirement or the college fund for over nine months now. I have discovered that 1921 jeans fit perfectly and aren't cheap. The heels have fallen off my boots, my sweaters are all pilly, my son's pants all too short - none of which have a place in the budget for replacing. I want out of the burden. I'm starting not to love this house.

As a side note, track 10 on Ray Lamontagne's Trouble does not state "let all the clowns roll away." It's "let all the clouds roll away." Frankly, I still prefer to think of it as all the damn clowns rolling away.