Pilot Post

This Sunday, some professional movers (see? I’m a grown up) are coming to take my husband’s and my stuff from our beloved Brooklyn apartment (“beloved” is too strong, but it’s ours) and move us to Huntington, Long Island.

In the words of Snooki (and probably baby Lorenzo) “wahhhh!”

After living not with my parents through college, business school, working… I’m moving back home. Why? To save money! (Surprise! Bet you thought I was doing it for fun!) Well actually, before I can save money, I have to pay off my credit card debt from the wedding and honeymoon. whoops.

My husband, Tom, and I are going to be staying with my dad because my mom’s house is too small and my mother-in-law’s house is too far from work. And, after all, moving in with her divorced dad in the house where her parents’ marriage fell apart is the dream for most new wives.

In case you can’t tell, I’m not super excited about this move. But it’s happening.

Won’t you join me in seeing how this drama unfolds?

The Cast

In case you don’t think like me for some reason (weird), you should know that I think of my life as a sitcom. Before I get any further into the story arc of this season, allow me to present the characters.

Main Characters

Jill (me) - Typical 20-something professional. I lost my burning desire to climb the corporate ladder a couple years ago but I work in a semi-important job to pay the bills. Like most people of my generation, I spend most of my time at work fantasizing about going back to college.

Tom (my husband) - A disillusioned chiropractor that actually is going back to college. But not in the fun way. Before he goes to PA school, he has to retake some of his prereqs from college because his credits expired (already? seriously?) so he’s the “old” freshman on campus. He goes to school 4 days a week and works 3 days so I should just stop complaining right now. But I won’t.

Daddy (my dad) - There is no need to give my dad a name other than Daddy because that is what he calls himself. Confused? You know the way a young father might talk to his two year old? “Daddy doesn’t like it when you bite me.” That’s how my dad still talks to me. “You know Daddy’s not big on birthdays.” But you gotta love a guy that loves his little girls that much. 

His house is a mess but he’s working on getting it cleaned up for us (at the last minute – wonder where I get it from).

Secondary Characters

Amy (my sister) - Amy has lived with us for the last 2 years in the city. She’s renting a room from a girl in Queens for the time being. I’m going to miss having her around but Tom will not miss her cat Frosty and her constant shedding.

How could anyone be mad at this face?
credit: Rae
 
Gail (my mom) - Pretty awesome mom. Retired, lives about one mile from my dad. It’s no secret that I wish we could live with her, but her house is smaller and fuller than my dad’s.
 
Cutie (my stepdad-to-be) - Ok, his real name is Ron but my mom calls him Cutie and then my sister and I started calling him Cutie too because, I don’t know, it’s cute. He and my dad kind of have an Ashton-Bruce-8-years-ago thing going on, in that they get along and both cook (occasionally together) for family dinners. As a divorced kid, this is the most one can hope for.

Recurring Characters

I don’t really know yet… my sister’s boyfriend Ben? My mom’s friend Aunt Kath that lives with her half the time? Maybe.

My friend Alice, who is also stuck living with her dad in Huntington? Definitely.

My in-laws, various Long Island friends of both Tom and me, my desperate alter-ego that attempts to manipulate a move back into the city? Probably.

Daddyism #1

Rabbit Rabbit.



“It seems like everyone wants money from you these days.”


Tom, Daddy, and I are walking from Daddy’s to the Mediterranean Snack Bar.

Daddy: You know, it seems like everyone wants money from you these days.

Me: Are you talking abou those kids having a car wash?

Daddy: Well, yeah. Not just there. Everywhere. Like the supermarket. There’s always someone outside asking for money for charity. I’m at the point where if I see that, I’ll go to a different supermarket.

Me: Seriously?

Daddy: Yeah, and Wendy’s. I go there and get two 5 piece spicy chicken nuggets, which costs $2.18, and then they want a dollar for charity.

Me: Uh huh.

(There is no point arguing a Daddyism.)

 

Preview: Daddy’s House

Remember 3 weeks ago when we were going to stay at my mom’s for a week and then move into my dad’s?

Here’s an update: we’re still at my mom’s. The end.

Not really the end. But that would legit be enough of an explanation for anyone that knows my dad. Assuming you don’t, however, here’s the rest…

Daddy is still working on his cleaning and plumbing problems. The latest is that we should be moving in this week. (We’ll see.)
 
As a preview of what’s to come, here’s what it looked like when we first moved our furniture into Daddy’s:

that’s the front door. and all our stuff.
 
He wasn’t quite ready for us, so he just had the movers leave all our stuff in the foyer. 
 
peeking inside
 
It’s cool because it’ll be totally easy for us to move our solid wood furniture upstairs later. (I emphasize “solid wood” because I’m proud we’ve upgraded most of our Ikea furniture. I’m like totally grown up.)
 
In case you had been wondering why I started this blog… do you get it now? No, really. Ms. PC values feedback.

Daddyism #2

Rabbit Rabbit.


“You know, you really should be eating more fruit.”



My husband, the chiropractor, enters the kitchen.

Daddy: There’s a pear in the fridge if you wanna take it for lunch.

Tom: No thanks, I’m ok.

Daddy: You know, you really should be eating more fruits and vegetables. I mean, I’m not trying to tell you what to do but you really should be eating more fruit.

 

The Shower Head Incident

Tom and I moved into Daddy’s a few weeks ago and immediately noticed that the shower head was super low-flow, which, as we know from Seinfeld, is not good.

my first homemade gif

We bought a new one about two or three weeks ago but didn’t install it right away because we couldn’t find a wrench. So we got around to it on Friday.

Oh, and when I was at Home Depot, I called and asked Daddy if he wanted me to buy a new faucet for the bathroom (also an issue). He kind of panicked and said that no, we would go after work one night and pick one out together. 

I just want to say right now that I don’t give a shit about picking out the new faucet. I just want one with working knobs. Meanwhile, he hasn’t done anything about that yet.

Anyway, we changed the shower head without asking. [Dun dun dun!]


Sunday, we got a talking-to:
“Daddy doesn’t like unilateral decision making.”

Too bad Ms. PC doesn’t like low-flow shower heads.

I guess I feel bad because I don’t want him to feel like we’re taking over his house. But I just don’t think he’ll do anything if I don’t do it myself.

Exhibit A:

my girly stuff juxtaposed with the ultimate bachelor faucet


But anyway, Sunday night I decided to take a nice, long shower in celebration of our new-found water pressure. Unfortunately, the water went completely cold after about 12 minutes.

I told Daddy and he said “That’s why Daddy had a regulator in the old one.”  Whoops.

A Very Special Blog Post

I hate to get serious, ever, but it’s hard for me to laugh about the ridiculousness of living with my dad when I’m actually pissed off…

 
Daddy is nosy. My mom calls him a yenta. I mostly accept him but it’s tough sometimes.
 
 
He’s been known to ask me inappropriate questions about money. I have no idea how much he makes but he thinks it’s fine to ask me how much I make. Whatever.
 
He has repeatedly asked me, although I have told him many, many times, how much my MBA cost, how much I paid up front, and how much I owe. You know what? He paid for 20% of my graduate degree, which was generous and I did not expect, so if he really needs to know how much I owe in student loans, no big deal.
 
He also asks me how much I owe in credit card debt, which is patently none of his business. But, it’s not that big of a deal to me. I’ve told my friends and it’s not like I have a shopping addiction or something. I just have debt from throwing what constitutes a very modest New York wedding. So fine.
 
He started getting on my nerves a while ago when he told me, very cautiously at first, that, in his opinion, with a CPA and MBA, I should be making more money.
 
This pisses me off not because it’s nosy, but because it proves that he doesn’t know me at all.
 
Yes, if I sold my soul and went back to public accounting, I could be making a few tens of thousands more than I’m making now. But let’s look at the costs:
  • Dreams of becoming a writer. (No time to write when you’re working every night and weekends.)
  • Free time to spend with family, friends and husband.
  • Mental and physical health.
 
Maybe he doesn’t care about my writing dreams or free time but the mental health part is non-negotiable. I literally had a nervous breakdown and spiraled into depression at my old job. Guess what? If you can’t get out of bed in the morning, your income prospects are severely limited.
 
Sorry, this is getting really personal. Anyway…
And he seems to think Tom’s finances are his business too. So the other day, he’s talking to me about how I should really be saving money for a house (because that’s all a married woman can dream of, right? No chance I might want to have flexibility to travel?) and I’m nodding and he says:
 
“And Tom is talking about going to the Olympics in Russia, and I’m like ‘Dude, you have $XXX in debt.’”
 
[Silence.]
 
Seriously, what the fuck? Does he really think I’m going to take his side over my husband’s? And yes, our student loan debt is astronomical. Yes, it’s terrible and it’s going to take forever to pay off, but what are you saying? We’re not allowed to travel for the next 30 years? And I don’t even want to go to Russia but he’s turning me into a rebellious teenager and now I want to go out of spite!
 
So I’m stewing, and he continues on about how we’d be surprised how much money we can save if we really try [Trust me, living with Daddy IS trying!] and then he says “You know, it seems to me that you should both be making more money.” Enough!!!!
 
So I say “Daddy, you know, you’re getting a little nosy.”
 
And he says “Well, you’re living rent-free in my house.”
 
Oh! Didn’t know his offer to live with him came with strings attached! 
This is bullshit. Yes, I’m lucky to have him. But I also have a mom and a mother-in-law and a husband’s aunt with an empty apartment in Brooklyn and friends and enough money that I could still live on my own (if I never want to pay off my credit card debt) so, you know? Shit, fuck it.
 
I am tempted to just move out now but Tom is really sick of moving.
 
I guess I have to have the talk… you know the one, accompanied by sappy music at the end of any very special episode.
 
Really, my dad just wants to help me make my life perfect. Too bad I’ve got my own ideas.
Sorry for getting so real with you guys.  To counterbalance this very special post, tomorrow I will post a list of Ms. PC’s personal favorite very special episodes.

Back Home Sitcom, Ep. 1

INT. NEWLYWEDS’ BEDROOM – MIDDAY (SUNDAY)

Jill and Tom prepare to leave for the day. Jill puts her laptop in her purse as Tom slips on his jacket. There is a knock at the door. Jill opens it to reveal Daddy.
 
DADDY
Have you two been eating
in here?
 
JILL
(Guiltily) Um, yes.
 
DADDY
Daddy would really prefer
if you didn’t eat in here.
This isn’t college.
 
Jill glances at the mini fridge in the corner.
 
JILL
It feels like college.
 
DADDY
Yeah, I see that… Just 
eat in the kitchen please.
 
JILL
(Hangs her head) Ok…
 

Daddy closes the door as he leaves. Jill looks up at her husband.

TOM
(Whispers) I’m still
gonna eat in here.

Daddyism #3

Rabbit Rabbit.


“People are crazy with running red lights.”



Daddy and I are picking up Tex Mex.

Daddy: You know, these people are crazy with running red lights.

Me: Uh huh.

Daddy: It’s like, I think I’m cutting it close at a light, and then I look in my mirror and see two people go through after me.

Me: I know.


(Daddy has been known to stop at yellow lights.)

 

The Medicine Cabinet

I was going to post my personal restaurant rules today but I could only think of two. I would have been at a loss, but luckily Daddy didn’t let me down on the absurdity front…

This morning, I had the urge to clean out the medicine cabinet. I was scared that I would find cobwebs and spiders but it wasn’t that bad… just some dust and about 13 years’ worth of old medicine. Some of the stuff I threw out includes:

  • 2 out of the 3 mostly empty bottles of baby powder;
  • Some prescriptions filled at Genovese (which hasn’t existed since around 2002);
  • An unopened box containing Bacitracin that expired in 2007;
  • Iron supplements prescribed to me in 1997 by a doctor that is now dead; and
  • Five bags of the rubber bands I had to wear in my braces.
five bags
 
By the time I was done, there was one bottle of baby powder and a bottle of mineral oil left in the cabinet. I don’t know what mineral oil is but it seemed harmless.

I went out to get some cleaning supplies and when I came back… well, I guess if you read The Shower Head Incident, you know what’s coming…

Daddy: Why did you throw out everything in Daddy’s medicine cabinet without asking?
Me: Are you serious? It was all expired.
Daddy: Well why did you throw out the band-aids?
Me: Did you look at them?
Daddy: Well, if you need a band-aid, it’s still better than not having any.
Me: Um… ok. When’s the last time you even used anything in there?
Daddy: Daddy uses the baby powder a lot in the summer, actually.
Me: Ok, I kept the biggest, fullest bottle of baby powder.

I went into the bathroom and found that he had recovered from the garbage:

  • The unopened, expired Bacitracin;
  • The two nearly empty bottles of baby powder;
  • The unused gauze wrap (What’s wrong with that, you ask? Nothing, except for the dead stinkbug inside the box); and
  • The band-aids.
I absolutely want these water-stained Eckerd band-aids on my cut

 

I re-disposed of the stinkbug gauze, but if he needs three bottles of baby powder to feel in control of his life, so be it. This is the point we’re at: I now need permission to throw out garbage.