…is one of my favourite words, but I’m beginning to suspect that it isn’t quite all it’s cracked up to be!
Having come up with an amazing, viable plan, that became immediately unviable as soon as my grown up (Adam) explained the real world to me, I kind of want to tell serendipity to fuck off…
Or alternatively, tell me and Adam to ‘grow a pair’!
This was how the conversation went last night:
“So what are we going to do about the remortgage then?”- Adam.
“Huh?”- my standard response whenever money and scary stuff is mentioned.
“Well if we’re looking at moving to Bali now” (roughly translated as ‘now you’ve suddenly jumped on a Bali bandwagon’)
“Huh?”- see, not quite so articulate are we…- “Can’t we just remortgage and then sell the house and move to Bali”
Apparently this is not how the world works. Life is not that simple.
We are due to re-mortgage (there’s that evil word again- literally translated as ‘death pledge’) in mere days. We have no plan in place vis a vis jobs, flights, house sale, house purchase, visa: any of the little things really (maybe bandwagon was closer to the truth than I’d care to admit…). And apparently, if we go ahead with the re-mortgage we are tied in to it and will have to pay an early exit fee if we decide to leave… This means being tied down for another three years.
Half of me (the scaredy-cat, safety blanket requiring, family and friend loving, materialistic, crafter) is happy; the other, slightly more prominent half is despairing. Three years is a long time.
Adam and I attempt to grasp at straws.
Adam goes first:
“Well, in three years we’ll have £100,000 on the mortgage and £40,000 saved up”
I try another feeble attempt:
“And we’ll still get to leave before the next election, so won’t have to face the nauseating concept of the Tories getting in again” (and the unfounded Corbyn-bashing which is all too painfully rife even now)
But we live in an age of instant-gratification (and these rationales are flimsy at best): I want a different life and I want it now. It didn’t help that, when discussing this in the staff-room, two of my favourite colleagues both demanded that I do it. And ASAP (nothing quite says ‘we love you’ like two people telling you to piss off).
I keep desperately wanting to follow this advice. I certainly agree with it, but time after time we’re allowing head to rule over heart.
But… whilst there may never be a perfect time, at the moment there will definitely be a better time to pursue our dreams…
So here I am, sat at my computer on the break of a 13 hour day at work, inhaling chocolate like there’s no tomorrow- just to get through it, and dreaming of far off beaches, and my own swimming pool and wilfully ignoring the chapters of ‘Can We Live Here?’that I just read on terrible traffic and catastrophic cockroaches.