Impractical Net.

With the help of a friend, today, I realized that I'm in survival mode.  Survival mode really can be intense, but thankfully for me I do a wonderful job at not realizing things/ignoring them.  I just had a million friends unfriend me on facebook.  Now that's serious.  And Mr Incredible has no idea what he'll be doing for job(s) in the next two months.  And I have a serious dilemma going on with sending my 4 year old to school next year.  And, are we moving relatively soon?  Are we going to be having a pay cut?  Will Peppy live to see next year?  Crisis mode.

Impractical enough.  I hope you see the parallel.

Relatively speaking, this all looks just fine.  Things work out.  Thankfully my marriage is not failing, my children are healthy, and my dog doesn't have lock jaw.  And he's little enough that the one and half year can restrain him if need be.  There has never been a need, but the little comforts in life are the ones we emotionally fall back on, no?  And there is always Mr Incredible to fall back on, too.  He's painfully practical, with a tiny streak of idealism in him.  Like, for instance, when we recently bought our new van, he confidently yet carelessly threw the "valet key" in the glove compartment.  When a wrinkle formed between my brows and I asked him what he was doing, he replied, "it's a valet key!"  As though we're going to need valet parking.  Ever.  Maybe once a year we go somewhere with valet parking, but even still we get there approximately 4.5 hours before the rush.  Like 4pm not 830pm.  Ideal thinking, eh?  In reality we will need that key within the first month of owning the car, because the kids will lose the other keys, and the doors will be locked, and then we'll realize that the "valet key" is in the glovebox.  Then we'll really be SOL.  But sometimes his tiny proton of idealism is just so comforting.  Valet key when we're about to experience pay cut.  Tell me you don't want it.

I'm expecting Mr Incredible to come home tomorrow, and tell me that he's purchased Burial insurance.  Or, in the midst of all of his exams, papers, work, Peppy walks, kissing the girls goodbye, I'll find him on the computer looking up Medigap Insurance.  I'm 24.  But seriously, what's not to love about the impractical idealist side of him?  One has to rein the other in.  We've got it under control.  Kind of.  Thank God for my recent burial insurance for senior citizens.