Misery Loves Company

8:56 pm

Dow Jones and Wall Street Journal put Phoenix–yes, I know Scottsdale is a suburb of our big sister–at the top of the Misery Index. It was based on home ownership (prices have fallen drastically with no hope of recovery), gas prices (extraordinarily high, especially in Scottsdale) and unemployment (which means lack of jobs because some of our top business leaders have said our educational system is so poor–it ranks 50th–no one wants to come here). We also have flat population growth. Maury says we’re a pariah.

Uh-oh! Maury reads the paper everyday so he has a lot to say about the Misery Index. I’m a Pollyanna who touts that at one point we were ranked the 5th happiest state (if they don’t count my mother and her kvetching friends).

At breakfast Maury reads me the article, puts down his bagel and announces, “Jean, we have to move.”
“What? Why?” You have to know Glee took me to a new nail salon that uses shellac polish that lasts two weeks. Except if you want to get it off. I am busily trying to peel it away. “Just because a survey says we’re unhappy?”
“I can’t tolerate the political climate anymore.”
“But, Maury, we have our whole family here. I can’t leave my grandchildren and my mother.”
“The latter is reason to leave right now.”
“But who will get her multiple prescriptions for hemorrhoids and take her shoe shopping?”
“Jean, there are some things I can’t abide. Between the gun crazies who are passing legislation to carry concealed weapons on campus and being listed as the 20th most corrupt state BEFORE the public learned about the Fiesta Bowl scandal, I’ve had it.”
“But where would we go?”

“My mother won’t like it there. She only wears muu-muus at home. She says anyone who wears them in public, especially without firm undergarments, should turn themselves in to the Fashion Police.
“I’ve had enough! We’re #22 among fattest places and we don’t even rank high for a good slice of pizza! Except for Bianco and no one can get in there unless they wait three hours.”
“Maury, none of those are good reasons to move. We have to stay here and fix whatever is making “misery” a popular word. Besides, you’re not exactly slim yourself.”
“Me?” He says this as he strokes his corpulent belly. “Okay. I could lose a few pounds.”

I clear away the remains of his bagel and the nail polish peelings.

Waiting Line at Pizzeria Bianco

8 Responses to “Misery Loves Company”

  1. Lauren Says:

    Hi Marcia,

    You’re so funny! That was so Seinfeldesque but without the yelling. I’m sure. Things might suck but at least you’ve got sunshine. Thanks for swinging by my blog. Haven’t been feeling well for a couple of days until tonight. So, I wanted to stop by to say hello. Thanks for the onion roll. It made me laugh.

  2. Jean Rubin Says:

    You have to get better. The Donald might be President and we’ll all have to mobilize at a casino with the same onion roll. Wait! I’ve got my Halloween costume!

  3. Isabelle Gregson Says:

    How about a city swap? I bet after a few weeks in someone else’s shoes, we’d all develop a marvellous appreciation of what we’d left behind. So how about it? You come to rainy London and I’ll take sunny Scotsdale…

  4. Jean Rubin Says:

    Sounds glorious! Only it might take me a while to pack up my kvetching mother–“Jean, I can’t go to London without new shoes. What will I wear there? I need a Burberry.”–Maury, who will want to take a side trip to play golf at St. Andrews–Glee, who will insist on coming because she knows everything about England and the Queen–plus me!

  5. Scrollwork Says:

    I’m all for not wearing muu-muus without firm undergarments. But just not in humid Hawaii!

    Phoenix sounds like Merced, California, except the latter was also ranked the dumbest city in the nation. We live an hour north of it. Sometimes we encounter drivers on the road who must be from there.

  6. Jean Rubin Says:

    You sound smart!

  7. Lauren Says:

    Who’s Marcia?

  8. Jean Rubin Says:

    Marcia is the creator of Jean Rubin, a multi-tasking mama with lots of opinions.

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