myletterstoemily

i was watching an episode of . . . (not telling.)  the young people were in
trouble with their landlord for hiding the fourth roomie, and  it reminded
me of an episode from my own life.

my husband and i had been married for a few years when our firstborn was
. . . born.   a few months after that, the husband enrolled in harvard's
program for management development, the PMD.  not to be confused with
the MD.

it was an intense 12 week abbreviated business program that did not allow
spouses.   period.   we didn't think he could afford to attend the usual two
year business  school, and we were confident we could do anything for 12
weasley weeks.

so, off he went to boston.    and here baby isaac and i stayed . . . until we
were all too miserable to be apart from each other.

(enter fairy godmother)

mr. PMD saw a magical notice for the subleasing of a carriage house on a
gorgeous estate in concord (not too far from harvard.)   he rented it, settled
us in it, and it was lovely.   mr. PMD was able to sneak off campus every
friday night until sunday morning.   we had lots of fun.

(enter rumpelstiltskin)

one day a terrible/horrible man appeared at my door and asked, "WHO are
you?"

apparently our fairy godmother was subletting the carriage house without
the owner's permission.   lucky for poor me, i was able to persuade old mr.
rumpelstiltskin into letting us stay for one more month.   just long enough
for my smart mr. PMD to graduate.

at the graduation, a couple of his classmates patted me on the back, because
everyone knew mr. PMD was sneaking off campus every weekend.  they
never imagined it was to see his wife and baby.

what in the world were they thinking?

the end.

i mean, the beginning.