I have settled into my suburban life with my uncle. While I sort of miss the accessibility I had in Chicago -- I keep getting confused and thinking about biking over to my coffee shop or movie theater before I remember -- there is something about my life right now that has me far less tense than I used to be. I do want a job so that I can plan financially, especially get a newer car that won't make me nervous about road trips, but for now I'm OK. My uncle has his nightly routine of Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy! and I watch with him often, or cook in the kitchen while shouts of things like "Big Bear Hug!" and "The Bering Strait!"come from the den.
I think about whether I want my own place again, and while I like the idea, I don't like the idea of leaving my uncle. He's retiring, and right now he comes home and sits in front of the TV for easily five hours a night. I think he likes the company, and I do, too. The other night he talked about bringing up a shelf from the basement so that I could put more of my things in the kitchen.
Today was Thanksgiving, so we went to my mother's. My friend E-- came along, as she usually does for gatherings, and my niece drive down from Maine, which was a treat.
E-- and I convinced my uncle and his friends to come to a production by a Boston theater company we love, the Gold Dust Orphans.
"It will be irreverent, and you should not go if you are easily offended," said E--.
"It will be raunchy and rude, and very funny," I added.
"Where will it me?" Asked one of the guys.
"Machine," said E--.
"In the lower level of Ramrod," I added.
"I think I've been there before," said one of my uncle's friends.
"It's the club with the bathroom that says 'one person maximum' on the bathroom stalls," I offered.
And so it was done. I know my uncle is humoring me, but I really want him to get out and have more fun. And so it is that my 70-something uncle will be heading to an irreverent and off-color show put on by men in drag.
I await the disinheritance.