Suburban Diva

I've spent my whole life living in the suburbs, but suburban life in England just isn't, well, as suburban as it is here. For a start, I could jump on a train at the foot of my garden (unfortunately no exaggeration) at any five minute interval and be in central London 15 minutes later. The only real difference to not living in the city itself was that we only got tourists on match days (we lived in the shadow of Wembley Football Stadium).
Now I live in Naperville, I have to schedule a city visit by the not too frequent trains, plus taxi or we have to allow a car journey of anywhere between 35 minutes and an hour depending on traffic, which you can never plan for.
Life in the suburbs is very different to city life. If I was a true suburban diva I would be up at 5 a.m. watering my plants and snipping the lawn with my nail scissors.
I have never felt more intrenched in suburbia than I did this morning. A friend of a friend scheduled an appointment (honestly) to come and view my kitchen because she is considering having her house remodelled.
It's been nearly a year since anyone gushed over my state of the art microwave drawer and uba tuba granite counter tops. Months since anyone said "so you're not afraid of colour" when they drooled over my scarlet bathroom. Weeks since anyone admired the size of our yard (not the flowers obviously, because as I said, I'm not really a suburban diva).
Most of me was really proud. Not only was someone I barely knew (lovely woman, by the way) admiring my home, but I actually had someone in my house during the day to keep me company for an hour!
We sipped freshly brewed coffee from my alas still leaky coffee maker (luckily she didn't notice) in fluted white china mugs which look super until you actually try to hold them.
After she'd left, I spent an hour practising the piano (well almost) and then headed off to the golf range to practise there. (Golf, not piano obviously, although I think that would have worked better).
It was then it hit me. All day I'd been thinking how suburban my new friend was, when in fact I am too. Instead of going to work, looking after my family (although they'd be the first to dispute that I'm sure), feeding and cleaning up after three cats, not to mention Grumpy, I am now officially a Stepford wife.
My house is always clean because I employ a cleaning service. It is never untidy because there's only me here most of the time.
Somedays I'm a lady who lunches, and often a lady who breakfasts and coffees too. I wander around downtown Naperville popping in and out of the suburbanista shops, and if I buy anything it comes sealed in tissue paper in a paper bag with a string handle. I watch the other suburban divas walking by in their white crops and baseball caps with designer handbags, designer dogs and quite often designer babies.
Calling my daily paper a newspaper is something of an oxymoron because the last thing you expect to find in it is news. It reports what it not always correctly guesses is of most importance to the surburban public. This week it's that there are mosquitos in the area. Quick, hold the front page. It's mid summer in a humid climate. It would be more newsworthy if there weren't any.
Still, have to go now. There's still time to watch Ellen on TV before I have to make supper....