New Age, Same Curfew
January 7th 2007 03:04
I got word that all I needed to graduate was about three credits a week before my landlord asked me if I wanted to renew my lease. I was stuck in a dilemma. Should I pay $3500 in rent and $7500 in tuition all for three measley credits, or should I petition for a famed independent study and commute to and from Ann Arbor. Did I mention that I would be living for free, with my parent, on the eastside of Detroit.
Well, the decision made itself. After a little number crunching I decided to pack up and move out. The only obstacle was that I had to convince my parents, the starving artist and the formidable packrat, that I would be an excellent roommate. So, I laid down my argument completely, along with my requests. I wanted my sisters old room, no unnecessary disturbances until 9am, a television in my room, and no curfew.
I can't explain the joyous, bountiful, extremely happy laughter that my parents shared over my "little list". For the life of me I couldn't figure out what they found so funny, as a twenty-two year old woman, I was entitled certain rights, right? Even when it came to establishing those rights in the home of my parents. But they saw no such democracy, and forbade me the majority of my requests. I wanted to fight and scream, but that would contradict the "I'm a grown woman" standpoint that I had taken earlier.
Soooo, I decided to test the rules, and see where that got me. First one up, my own television. Completely unsuccessful. Next on the list, sleeping in. My battle with this was unnecessary, firstly because my retired father slept well into the day, and my self-employed mother had grown to like having her mornings to herself. My victory went unaccounted because there was never any real opponent. After gaining my sisters old room by default (it was the only room that my parents hadn't found anything to do with) I decided that my last move would be on the lines of curfew. In high school I had a curfew of midnight, my parents would lock the entire house down at that time, no one in and definitely, no one out. Now however, being 22, I wanted to have a fulfilling social life. I wanted to have the responsibility to finally be able to lock the house down at whatever time I decided to come home.
I built up my esteem, and roared my battlecry, "I'm going out!", my parents in their respective areas stared at me from atop a newspaper and a pair of knitting needles.
"You know what time we lock up." Its always bad when they speak in unison.
"Yeah, I might be a little late, but you don't have to wait up." A clever reply.
And as I closed the door behind me I heard what was to be their death defying blow,
"Oh, we won't."
I stalled at the top of our porch steps. What in the world was that supposed to mean?
I found out later that night as I stood in front of a plexi-glass screen door, contemplating what to do. Should I use my cell phone and pray that my parents haven't fallen so deep into dreamland, as well as disregard their "No one that really knows us would call after 9pm, so why answer the phone" rule? Or should I...I had no plan, I had lost the battle and the phone call that I was making was my concession.
"Dad, can you come let me in the house" I whispered sweetly.
"You promise to get home before lock down next time." He was waiting up.
"I...promise." Reluctant
"I'll be right down."
Well, the decision made itself. After a little number crunching I decided to pack up and move out. The only obstacle was that I had to convince my parents, the starving artist and the formidable packrat, that I would be an excellent roommate. So, I laid down my argument completely, along with my requests. I wanted my sisters old room, no unnecessary disturbances until 9am, a television in my room, and no curfew.
Soooo, I decided to test the rules, and see where that got me. First one up, my own television. Completely unsuccessful. Next on the list, sleeping in. My battle with this was unnecessary, firstly because my retired father slept well into the day, and my self-employed mother had grown to like having her mornings to herself. My victory went unaccounted because there was never any real opponent. After gaining my sisters old room by default (it was the only room that my parents hadn't found anything to do with) I decided that my last move would be on the lines of curfew. In high school I had a curfew of midnight, my parents would lock the entire house down at that time, no one in and definitely, no one out. Now however, being 22, I wanted to have a fulfilling social life. I wanted to have the responsibility to finally be able to lock the house down at whatever time I decided to come home.
"You know what time we lock up." Its always bad when they speak in unison.
"Yeah, I might be a little late, but you don't have to wait up." A clever reply.
And as I closed the door behind me I heard what was to be their death defying blow,
"Oh, we won't."
I stalled at the top of our porch steps. What in the world was that supposed to mean?
I found out later that night as I stood in front of a plexi-glass screen door, contemplating what to do. Should I use my cell phone and pray that my parents haven't fallen so deep into dreamland, as well as disregard their "No one that really knows us would call after 9pm, so why answer the phone" rule? Or should I...I had no plan, I had lost the battle and the phone call that I was making was my concession.
"Dad, can you come let me in the house" I whispered sweetly.
"You promise to get home before lock down next time." He was waiting up.
"I...promise." Reluctant
"I'll be right down."
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