So, as you may or may not know, my amazingly talented, clever and handsome Adam is <<this>> close to completing his law degree. Tell you what; it’s not a moment too soon. Seriously, between my MBA and his Law degree, this most-recent round of post-secondary education has been epic. Not complaining, because wouldn’t that be extremely first-world-problems of me, but still. Still. We have acquired great friends, fabulous experiences, much learning and debt. Oh, Debt: You are a cruel mistress. I will not be sorry to see you go (whenever that may be, which, according to Canada Student Loans, is approximately 3 months into the year 2326).
Adam is also doing coaching training, so he can be using his significant talents and inspiring enthusiasm to help people to find themselves and to follow their true paths. It’s a pretty noble calling. He is also currently looking for articles, which is a new development (that I think is a very good idea for many reasons, after many changes in direction). This is where we might see some big changes.
You see, finding articles can be tricky. They’re very tricksy and they like to hide on the nice law students who seek them. Sometimes, they hide under rocks, in treasure chests in sunken/hidden pirate ships in secret lagoons (oh, wait—no, that was The Goonies) and in places like <<gasp>> Saskatchewan. Now, I love this great country, but I kind of sort of have no real use for the middle bits. I’m sure they’re lovely, to some people. Mainly to those people who are prairie people. I am just not those people. I have lived on one coast or the other, my whole life. I like the water. Endless rolling fields make me nervous.
I am maintaining positive thoughts that we will get to remain here in Victoria. Otherwise, we are moving and I’m trying to maintain positive thoughts about that option, too. This is harder for me. Those who know me may understand that I am somewhat, just a little bit, entirely resistant to change. I’m working on it. But seriously you guys, I come by it honestly: Did you know that by the time I was 4 years old, I had lived in Nova Scotia, then British Columbia, then Nova Scotia again? And by the time I was 7.5 years old, I was back in BC? I’d attended three elementary schools by half-way through grade 1.
If I count the moves I can recall between apartments growing up (after age 4 and before I moved out on my own at age 22), I lose count at 15 moves. I know I’m missing some, but regardless, that’s a lot of moves. I mean, maybe not if you are a military family, though I still think it’s above average even in that circle. But the thing is, I’m not from a military family. All that moving has left me averse to things I am working on overcoming, such as shifting furniture. Also my fear of cardboard boxes.
Hence why I’m working on my attitude to moving for a year for articles. I’m trying to think of it as a grand adventure. Sometimes, I think it would be really cool to live somewhere completely new for a while. After all, nearly all of Adam’s fellow students (and our dearest friends, whom we’ll miss when they move back home), dropped everything and came out here for three whole years!
What would I do? Would I lose my job? Would we have to sell our home (strata rules dictate that we can’t rent it out)? I don’t know the answers to those questions. I do know, however, that no matter what, it’ll all work out. Because it always does (check out Adam’s speech if you don’t believe me).
That wasn’t a very amusing post. It probably would’ve been more funny if you were able to see me counting apartments on my fingers. Several times. Because I lost count. On my own fingers. How is that even possible?
An MBA who can’t even effectively count on her fingers. No wonder Finance made me cry…