F^cking it up in Florence: Laundry, Life Crises, and Aperol Spritz
#FamilyTravel #SummerVaca #TravelWithKids
I typed grudgingly into my computer — watching the time tick away and calculating my hourly rate. Green Day played over the loud speaker, a TV behind the cafe’s counter displayed a punk man trekking through life with nonchalance. I began to embody his energy — feeling an itch to rebel against this bullshit I’ve signed up for.
Is this seriously what my life will be upon graduation? Hours of this horrible shit because I’ve abandoned my passion out of fear of failure?
Ugh.
̶I̶s̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶s̶e̶r̶i̶o̶u̶s̶l̶y̶ ̶w̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶l̶i̶f̶e̶ ̶w̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶u̶p̶o̶n̶ ̶g̶r̶a̶d̶u̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶?̶ ̶H̶o̶u̶r̶s̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶h̶o̶r̶r̶i̶b̶l̶e̶ ̶s̶h̶i̶t̶ ̶b̶e̶c̶a̶u̶s̶e̶ ̶I̶’̶v̶e̶ ̶a̶b̶a̶n̶d̶o̶n̶e̶d̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶p̶a̶s̶s̶i̶o̶n̶ ̶o̶u̶t̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶f̶e̶a̶r̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶f̶a̶i̶l̶u̶r̶e̶?̶
I quickly delete this from the document. Hoping my employer doesn’t check its history. Expressing myself is generally frowned upon — or so I’ve learned.
I open my email, skimming for my boss’ name.
To: Boss
Subject: ARTICLE IDEA — Never Take Your Kids To Barcelona
“Hey! I was thinking I could write an article about the thriving night life in Barcelona, things that parents could do after the kids are asleep! So far I’ve found two bars and a club…”
Re: ARTICLE IDEA — Barcelona Places You Shouldn’t Take Your Kids To
“Hello Abbey — We only promote wholesome activities. We don’t accept any articles that include drugs, smoke shops, gambling, sex, bars, horse racing, etc… See this article about family site seeing in Croatia for inspiration!”
I roll my eyes. I should have expected this. In my last article, my suggestion of ordering a margarita wasn’t well received. I have always felt the need to censor myself in my writing. The internet is “forever” afterall. And I am supposed to get a “big girl” job one day. It seems in order to get paid for writing, I need to string cheesy, happy words between uncontraversial assertaions. I need to create a pretty, palatable piece of writing. Something that could be deemed “delightful”.
Re: Re: ARTICLE IDEA — Barcelona Places You Shouldn’t Take Your Kids To
Yes of course! I totally understand that. I’ll get an article about wholesome sight seeing by this wed… What the fuck am I doing with my life?
The cursor blinks. I was taking full advantage of the free wifi. My phone vibrates against my forearm, the churps of which can’t be heard over the thumping music.
“Too loud?” A thick Italian accent asks.
“No. Perfect.” I emphatically reply. “Can you watch my stuff?” I grab my dryer sheets and start towards the door, the shelf of liquor catches my eye. “And can you make me an Aperol Spritz?” He nods with a smile. I needed something to numb my premature life crisis that was occuring as a result of passion killing work.
I walk across the narrow street, cluttered with small tables of middle aged tourists abusing the free wifi and their kids demolishing cones of gelato. The bleak, silver machines of laundromat are attended only by a change machine. I peel a pair of anonymous boxers off the steel wall with disgust, throwing them into the trash and collecting my wet belongings. I insert eight euros into the dryer. Leaving it spinning as I go to cross the street.
I return to a fish bowl sized Aperol Spritz and take charge of the cursor. Pop punk rattles the icecubes. If I truly want to follow my dreams, I have to start NOW. I can’t settle for less. I can’t work a job I hate for the sake of the money. I don’t have that many bills yet. The essay which looms above my head, and the quiz that’s due tomorrow are my biggest problems at the moment. I take a deep breath and a long sip.
Re: Re: ARTICLE IDEA — Barcelona Places You Shouldn’t Take Your Kids To
̶Y̶e̶s̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶c̶o̶u̶r̶s̶e̶!̶ ̶I̶ ̶t̶o̶t̶a̶l̶l̶y̶ ̶u̶n̶d̶e̶r̶s̶t̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶.̶ ̶I̶’̶l̶l̶ ̶g̶e̶t̶ ̶a̶n̶ ̶a̶r̶t̶i̶c̶l̶e̶ ̶a̶b̶o̶u̶t̶ ̶w̶h̶o̶l̶e̶s̶o̶m̶e̶ ̶s̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ ̶s̶e̶e̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶b̶y̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶w̶e̶d̶…̶W̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶f̶u̶c̶k̶ ̶a̶m̶ ̶I̶ ̶d̶o̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶l̶i̶f̶e̶?̶
Thank you so much for offering me this opportunity. I feel that life is pulling me in a different direction. I have logged my hours. Thanks so much again.
-Abbey
I yell beneath the music, leaping as I press send. Relief hits. The essay and quiz have become tomorrow’s problem. My phone buzzes with dinner plans which are confirmed with a typo I don’t bother to correct. I put a handful of euros on the table and sling my laundry sack over my shoulder — filling it with damp laundry. Forty somethings (presumably with life regrets), whose meer appearance screams CRUIZE, stare at me with pasta hanging out of their mouths. I’m wearing a green velvet halter top, a pleather skirt, and platform tennis shoes — walking between women in flowy pastel dresses. My pig tails bounce as I walk. I feel like nothing can touch me. Yet everything is within my reach — all I have to do is grab it.
