Consolation Prizes
On Sunday morning, as we lingered in bed, GTB nursing a hangover and me reluctant to get out from under the warm comforter, we discussed the Ducks game and how I’m not really a true fan yet and how things would be different if we’d gone to college together.
GTB joked about how, if I’d gone to the University of Oregon like he did, I would have graduated and then moved immediately to Portland, thus saving us YEARS of not-togetherness. I responded “I love you and I love living with you, but Portland will always be a consolation to me. I never would have chosen to live here.”
He responded, like he always does when I say something shitty like that, “OK, let’s move. Where do you want to go? Austin? Seattle? Where?”
To which I always respond, “I just got here. I’m not moving now.”
This time, for the first time, he said, “Then you are making the choice to be here. It’s not a consolation.”
Good point.
A few minutes later, my mom called and asked if I wanted to meet her at Vancouver Mall for some shopping. GTB was working that afternoon, and I’m never one to pass up a shopping opportunity with mi madre, so I said yes. Or, actually, I think I said, “Hell yes!”
After a lengthy brunch at Roux with some of my favorite people in the world, I ventured north, across the river, to Washington. And there, at the counter in Bath & Body Works, I heard myself say to a salesperson words I never thought would come out of my mouth:
“I’m from Oregon.”
Three words that saved me from paying sales tax.
And suddenly, living in Oregon felt a lot less like a consolation and more like a really smart thing to do.