Our life goals had only diverged because I’d gotten tired of supporting him through all of his endeavors without being allowed to achieve anything for myself. Only uptight guys ironed their boxers, and only self-absorbed, entitled dickheads had someone else do it for them and then negatively critiqued the creases. I’d told him that I hoped she was young, because if she was my age-tiptoeing past forty-and had any relationship experience at all, the second she learned that he liked his boxers ironed but wouldn’t do the ironing himself, she’d be gone-skies. Someone who shared the same life goals and liked to hold hands like we used to. Someone he had more in common with, apparently. And when I pouted at his “concession” that I could stay in the house until it was time to sell, I definitely confused him. When the-now ex-husband had told me he was moving on and that he wanted a divorce, I was pretty sure he hadn’t expected me to exclaim, “Awesome!” I’m positive he didn’t think I’d start packing right away. I sat in my idling car in front of my parents’ house, going over my life choices. This was not the fresh start I’d had in mind. I have a chance to start again, and this time, I make the rules.No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Or how dangerous this new life would become. I had no idea how incredibly freeing that could be. It is too old to take crap from anyone, however, or care what people think. That is, until I learn what the house really is: something I never would've thought possible.Īs my new life begins, a couple of things become immediately clear: Forty isn't too old for adventure. I'll be taking care of a centuries-old house that called to me when I was a kid. Age is just a number, after all, and at 40 I'm ready to carve my own path.Įager for a fresh start, I make a somewhat unorthodox decision and move to a tiny town in the Sierra foothills. This time, though, I plan to do things differently. But when my husband of 20 years packs up and heads for greener pastures, and my son heads away to college, that's exactly what my midlife becomes.
"Happily Ever After" wasn't supposed to come with a do-over option.
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