Dishwashers, Disposals and DINK-dom
In college, a friend of my roommate predicted I’d be a DINK (dual income, no kids). He was a granola type who didn’t really know me, but quickly pegged me as a yuppy. The comment was meant as an insult, and I took it that way.
It wasn’t that I judged those who chose not to or were unable to have kids. To him, being a DINK meant someone who was selfish and into the “things” in life … and no one wants to hear that about themselves. Plus I’d always thought I’d be a good mom, and his flippant comment hurt my feelings.
Fast forward nearly 20 years, and I say bring on the DINK-dom.
Why the change of heart? A few weeks ago, my dishwasher quit working. Yesterday, my garbage disposal exploded. Today, my car left a puddle of antifreeze on my driveway, overheated on my way home and is currently sitting at the repair shop. I’m also pretty sure my furnace isn’t going to make it through the winter. It’s not just the dual income I’m after … although some extra cash would be nice with the expenses racking up. And I haven’t entirely given up on having kids. But honestly, every time one of these calamities strikes, I’m reminded of my aloneness.
Sure, I can call my parents or a friend (and I’m extremely grateful for their love and support), but it doesn’t seem the same as having a husband or even a partner (Goldie Hawn/Kurt Russell style) to rely on … and to help me clean up the mess. Exploding disposals are pretty nasty.