The Secret, Part 2

As previously addressed, I have always been behind the learning curve. Let me give you a for instance. At the tender young age of 19 months, I was still crawling around on all fours. My mother was deeply concerned and got on the phone with my pediatrician's office to find out what the hell was wrong with her baby.

I was fully cognizant of what was going on, being practically ready for college by that age. While she was busy bursting into histrionics on the phone, I crawled over to her desk, looked her right in the eyeballs, hauled myself up, and walked off. Never fell down once.

That's what I've been like my whole life. I don't like attempting things unless I know I will be a blazing success at them and that nothing will go wrong.

It's taken me a long time to learn how to be brave, and I would be remiss if I didn't point out that this has been an incomplete process. Instead, I limp along until an Unexpected & Life-Altering Event forces me to jump off a cliff into the (relative) unknown.

After watching Braveheart as a youngster, for example, I spent years wanting to visit Scotland. But I never actually WENT because it was an international trip and I didn't have anyone to go with me and my dad was constantly referencing the movie Taken. But then I broke up with the guy I was supposed to marry and BAM!!! I got on a plane and flew to Scotland.

And that's what happened with my job, too. I was miserable teaching in my old school district. In a period of 6 years, my building had 11 principals and 3 superintendents. But I just kept trucking along. And then we got a 28-year-old principal with 2 years of teaching experience. He made me submit all my tests to him so that he could check that I was reporting my data accurately. He made me alphabetize them before I submitted them. Then he sent them back without even looking at them and told me he wanted them in numerical order instead. And I just snapped. I called in the teacher's union and I went BONKERS.

That's when I packed up all my stuff and said I wasn't coming back, come hell or high water. I spent my solo vacation in Turks & Caicos job searching by the beach. It was not my best vacation, but I found a new job and got the hell outta' Dodge.

It strikes me that this is what has happened with my housing situation, as well. I have finally found a tiny house! I guess I probably could have done this before now, but it took the Unexpected & Life-Altering Event of my landlady jacking up my rent while leaving the other tenants' at the same rate to ignite my sense of injustice and propel me into action.

I was all, I'LL SHOW YOU!!! I'LL JUST OWN A TINY HOUSE INSTEAD OF RENT FROM YOUR SCANDALOUS ASS!!!!!!!!!!!!

And now I am thousands and thousands of dollars poorer and probably won't be able to go to England and France this summer, but hey, I finally achieved the milestone of homeownership, which I'd been attempting off and on for 9 years.

The Secret?

Perhaps. I asked Ma if marriage and small black children could materialize in the same vein of finding a new job and a tiny house, but she said probably not because they would involve someone else's will and not just my own.

It is pretty difficult to envision an Unexpected and Life-Altering Event big enough to propel me into adopting a child on my own, but I guess that's what would make it unexpected. Never say never, amiright?