Morning Reflections on Marriage

I've thought of another reason to get married.  

Most mornings, when I first sit up in bed, I'm greeted by my reflection in the large mirror on the dresser at the foot of my bed.  And my first impression of myself is that of a blurry Medusa.  Blurry because, without my contacts or glasses, I'm as blind as the proverbial bat (though not, as I read recently, as actual bats).  And Medusa because, left to its own devices overnight, my naturally curly hair becomes a snarled mess of snake-like curls.

However, yesterday morning, my first-thing-in-the-morning reflection was more frightening than usual.  I have a lamp on my dresser that is set (via timer) to turn on a few minutes before my alarm clock goes off, in order to ease me closer to consciousness.  With the recent end of Daylight Saving Time, the timer was all messed up, and the night before, I had pulled one corner of the dresser out from the wall in order to reach and reset the timer.  I left the dresser askew because A) it is heavy, B) I was tired, and C) if the timer was still inaccurate, I didn't want to have to move the dresser again.  

Therefore, yesterday when I awoke and sat up in bed, I was greeted with the reflection of...nothing.  The dresser was at a slightly different angle, and the mirror showed me only the empty half of my bed.  Naturally, being an intelligent and well-educated person, I concluded---for one sleep-addled moment, at least---that I had been turned into a vampire.

Now, I don't anticipate this being a regular problem, but do you see how easily this could have been solved?  The solution, clearly, is marriage.

If I were married, this never would have happened, for one of three reasons:  

1) Being the considerate husband that he is, he would have replaced the heavy dresser for me, thus restoring the usual angle of the reflection.  

2) The mirror would have shown him in the other half of the bed, which, I'm assuming, is the main advantage to having a husband in your bed.  (Right?)  

3) If he were already up and about in the house, he would have reassured me of my non-vampiric status and restricted my chocolate intake before bed as a guard against future flights of fancy.

So, really, it's a simple solution.

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Single at Work

I am a high school English teacher, but some days I feel as though my title should be "Professional Committee Member."  I serve on several different committees for my school district.  Last week alone, I had five meetings before or after school, on top of my regular teaching duties.

At a recent Technology Team meeting, our superintendent asked who would be interested in attending a national technology conference in Atlanta over the summer.  Mildly interested, I checked the dates to discover that the conference begins a mere two days after I'm scheduled to have all four wisdom teeth removed.  Um....no.  Not going to happen.

However, what interested me most at that moment was the response of a few of my colleagues:  "I'll have to check with my husband."  

Yeah, that statement always makes the feminist in me kind of cringe in a "Are we still in the 50s?!" kind of way.  But they are exactly correct:  they can't commit to traveling for work until they check with their partner-in-child-raising.  Even without kids, a four-day business trip is a family decision.  That's only fair.

Ironically, were it not for my vestigial wisdom teeth, I would be the perfect candidate for such a business trip.  I don't have any children to arrange care for.  I don't have a husband who might prefer I not be missing for a week.  My two cats will be fine on their own for a few days.  And as I sat in this meeting, I almost felt as though I had to defend my decision to NOT go, as if my superintendent and everyone else were sitting there thinking, "Come on, Cathlina; take one for the team."  

Actually, I feel frequently as though I have to explain my unavailability for events.  Others will say, "I can't make that meeting," and everyone takes that as an answer.  I say it, and there's an expectant pause, as if to say, "What else could you possibly have to do?"

This happens with my friends and family, of course, when we're planning events.  I'm frequently not even asked about my availability for a specific date; it's just assumed that I'm always free.  But somehow it's more galling when it happens at work.  In my first teaching job, my principal would call me at home to come work the ticket booth at various sporting events.  He knew I didn't have a family to abandon at short notice, and the common attitude across the school was, "Ask Cathlina.  She's got nothing else going on."

More recently, a colleague told me she preferred me over another teacher for a promotion (department head) because I'm unmarried and "not going anywhere" whereas the other colleague is recently married and hopes to start a family soon.  Um...thanks?

I get their point, and yep, it's true; I do have a more flexible schedule because I'm still single.  But don't assume I have no life because I have no family of my own.  And we're all getting paid to do the same job.  I shouldn't have to take on more of the shared duties as some sort of "natural consequence" for not getting married.

Here's what Wally from Dilbert says on the subject:  

So, maybe Wally isn't the best role model of singles at work, but he has a point.

Singles don't take sick days because our children are sick.

We probably aren't sick as often ourselves because we don't have children.  (Though nieces and nephews can share germs pretty well, too, I've discovered.)

Singles don't have to rush out to pick up kids from school.

We have no one waiting at home for supper; it's easier for us to work late or attend those unexpected meetings.  

We don't have to consult with anyone about our schedules.

So...if singles are taking on more of the collective work with our "laser-like focus," as Wally says, and saving our employers money, how about sharing a little of that wealth??  Just a thought.


And as I write this, I'm supervising a group of my Advanced Placement English students who are taking a 3-hour practice exam.  On a Saturday.  Do I do it because I'm single?  No.  I do it for the same reason I was recently promoted to department head:  because I'm very good at my job.

To Buy or Not to Buy?

I must be one of the few 36-year-old women in America who doesn't own a picnic basket. Make no mistake:  this is not because I am picnic-adverse. This is because I am unmarried.


Think about it: how do most American households become blessed with a picnic basket?  It's a classic wedding present.  Newly-married couples receive them from Uncle Lloyd and Aunt Mimsey along with a few handwritten family recipes.  It's a treasured wedding tradition.

It's also highly practical, I have discovered.  Before every church potluck, family gathering or holiday party, I find myself hunting through my stash of boxes for the right-sized container to transport my famous Chocolate-and-Heath-Bar Cheesecake.  All the while, I'm muttering, "I swear I'm going to buy a picnic basket next week."

The fact that I haven't yet purchased a picnic basket is mainly due to procrastination (along with a tendency to forget about the need for it as soon as the potluck, gathering or party is over).  However, there are some items, usually purchased or received by couples, that can place Still Singles in a bit more of a quandary.

Here's the dilemma:  do Still Singles go ahead and buy all those typically couple things, or not?

Sure, a picnic basket is not that much of an emotional investment, but some singles really have difficulty in deciding to buy, say, a house on their own.  For some, they worry about tying themselves down, and for others, they feel as though it would be "giving up" to go ahead and buy such things alone.

For me, the answer has been varied.  Here's the tally as it stands thus far:


YES:

• a queen-sized bed--to upgrade from what my friend Bobbi calls "the virginal single bed."  Let me say, it took NO time at all for me to get used to all that space.  Also, an excuse to buy all new sheets and bedding.  Love it!

• a set of nice dishes--not china, but not mismatched hand-me-downs either. Purchased in order to host my first family Thanksgiving in my first little rental house.  They are pretty girly (pink flowers!), but I figured that was just fine for now.

NO:

• a house--but I'm definitely getting the urge more, watching HGTV and dreaming of painting my walls some color other than what I believe Dutch Boy calls "Rental Apartment Off-White."  Still, a house has always seemed like such a BIG purchase and one that I'm not sure I'm ready to make on my own.  Other singles have, and I applaud them for it.

• a full-sized Christmas tree--definitely an emotional one for me.  That just feels so much like a buying-our-first-Christmas-tree-together kind of thing.  I don't want to miss out on that one.  So I stick with my little four-foot tree.  Besides, the story of how I bought that tree is priceless and always makes me laugh when I think of it.  (Remind me to tell you that one sometime.)

• vacations--probably a safety issue just as much, but I do have a few special places in mind for trips with my husband.  Some are revisits---places I love that I'd love to show him---and others we can explore together for the first time. 

Other thoughts, my fellow singletons?  What purchases have you struggled with or embraced fully?

As for me, I'll be adding a picnic basket in the YES column soon. 

If I don't forget again.



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The "Carefree" Life of the Single Person

Perhaps the second entry of a blog is a bit too soon for the VH1: Behind the Blog episode.  However, I thought I would share the inspiration for "Table for One." 

My inspiration for starting this blog came from Mr. Mike Morton, columnist for the Newton Kansan, our daily paper here in Newton, Kansas (or had you figured that out from the name?).  On April 7th of last year, Mr. Morton's On the Loose column focused on the life of a single person.  He talked of the freedom that comes from having no witnesses to your questionable personal habits.  According to Mr. Morton, the "male side of 'singledom'" includes using a single fork to butter toast, scramble eggs, and stir coffee, all in an attempt to wash as few dishes as possible.  The single man also drinks straight from the milk carton and does laundry only as a last resort.  Mr. Morton closed his column with these remarks:

Being single ain't exactly a bed of roses. 

"Footloose and fancy free?"

Not exactly.  The single man is on his own, so there's no one to remind him he's running low on groceries, he has an appointment or "Mother's coming to visit."

And what about the single woman?


Let's put it this way.


This is deep water I refuse to enter, and I am very, very sure not entering is one of the wisest things I have ever done.

(Read Mike Morton's entire column "The Carefree Life of a Single Person" here.)

This article hit me where I live, so to speak.  The "deep waters" of the single woman have been my swimming ground for my entire adult life.  And though I could relate to some of Mr. Morton's musings on the life of the single male, I felt as though I might have something to add as an experienced single female.  Furthermore, in the last few years, I've been encountering more and more thirty-something (or older or younger) singletons like me, and I felt we needed a voice.

So I sent Mr. Morton an e-mail.  And here's what it said:

Thank you very much for your article in April 7th's The Newton Kansan.  As a fellow singleton, I appreciate any attempt to share our reality with a world built for two. 

The "deep water" of the single woman?  You may refuse to enter, but I'm living it every day.  So let me take a whack at it.

A single woman:

--moves heavy furniture by herself, one inch at a time, rather than wait until friends or family stop by to help.  (Last month, I lugged a china cabinet up a flight of stairs by myself while my feline roommates watched in bemused amazement.)

--makes friends with the guys at the service station.  She has to; having no spouse to drop her off and pick her up (or just take care of the darn car himself), she spends many hours hanging out in the repair shop's waiting room.   

--never ages.  If she wants cold pizza and chocolate chip cookies for breakfast, who's going to stop her or look on disapprovingly?  There are no little ones around for whom to be a good example; therefore, spoonfuls of peanut butter straight from the jar are completely acceptable.  At 35 years old, I'm the proud owner of a pair of Snoopy and Woodstock "footsie" pajamas, which are often worn until noon on Saturdays.

Yet...

--appreciates being treated as an adult.  I've been on my own since college; couples, stop sending wedding invitations and Christmas cards to my parents with my name tacked on.

--wouldn't mind meeting Mr. Right someday but, for the most part, she's pretty okay with her life as it is.



And these probably apply to both single men and single women.  A singleton:

--always gets to watch his/her favorite TV shows, eat his/her favorite foods, and keep the thermostat where he/she wants it.

--is usually more comfortable on her/his own rather than with a crowd of people.  Friends and family think they are doing singletons a favor by keeping them company, but often, we're just fine on our own.

--doesn't have time to be footloose and fancy-free; she's/he's too busy doing all the work that a married couple (and perhaps their well-trained children) share:  take out the trash, mow the lawn, wash the dishes, do the laundry, pay the bills, dust the bookshelves, vacuum, get the car serviced, buy groceries, fix meals, buy and send birthday presents and cards, file the tax return, renew the car registration, fix the dripping faucet, sew on the loose button, make food for the office party or family gathering, load and unload the car from trips, take the cat to the vet, and, of course, haul the china cabinet up the stairs.


Thanks, again, for your article!

Mr. Morton liked what I had to say and asked permission to use my comments in a future column.  I agreed, and a few weeks later, with his own folksy flavor mixed in, our joint column appeared in the Kansan.  (Read it here, if you like.) 

In the following weeks, the kind comments I received from friends and family, from singletons I know through church and through work, convinced me that a consistent voice of modern-day singles might be a welcome addition to the conversation of the day.  A few months of brainstorming and hemming-and-hawing, and "Table for One" was born!


Looking back at my e-mail to Mike Morton, there's only one thing I would change.  After having experienced "Snowmageddon 2011," I would add that a single woman also shovels 17 inches of snow off her own 40-foot-long driveway.








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