Rites of Passage

On Friday, Ron and I went to Emporia to look for an apartment for Tyler next year. The first one he took us to see was, in a word, detestable. I still can't believe the apartment manager thought it was a good idea to show us this particular apartment. First of all, two guys were living in it. All of the blinds were pulled so it was dark, which actually might have been a good thing. I might have been able to see crawling things had there been any ambient light. The kitchen was on one wall of the apartment and was completely and utterly disgusting. The television looked like the "pause" button had been pushed and there was a wild-haired scary man glaring at us. And he was flipping the bird. Nice. The toilet tank was missing its lid and I couldn't see the carpet in the bedroom because there were clothes over every square inch. We didn't stay long. The only redeeming quality of the place is that it's right across from campus. Moving right along . . .

The second place, compared to the first, was a Garden of Eden. The manager, a nice grandmotherly woman named Ethel, lives on the property, which was a real plus for Ron and I. The apartment we looked at was not a "show" apartment, but just a normal one that was empty. And it was really nice. Clean carpet, freshly painted walls, a proper kitchen (although pretty tiny) and a good sized bedroom with a deck off of it. And a toilet with all of the parts in place. And we could get a nine month lease. SOLD! We left a deposit so next year Tyler will have his own place. Sometime later I realized that neither Ron nor I have ever lived on our own. There's a saying (I think it's from the 50's): I went from my father's house to the sorority house to my husband's house. That's totally me. I'm just glad Tyler will have this opportunity to spread his wings (but not TOO much!).

When we arrived home I was upstairs when I heard Ron yell, "Guess what I got in the mail?" Drumroll please . . . he'd gotten an application for AARP (American Association of Retired Persons, I think). Yes, Ron will be 50 next month. Much to my surprise he didn't sound that devastated. Come to find out he's excited as heck to get the discounts that come with the membership. In his eyes I could two little flashing "Lowe's" signs.

So, if you call us between 4:00 and 5:00 p.m. and we don't answer it's because we're taking advantage of the early bird dinner specials at Bob Evans. Time marches on . . .