Once upon a time

I had a dream.

It had a swanky apartment with giant windows and warm mood lighting. It had exclusive little stores where everything was one of a kind and the owner knew my name. In my dream the food was always organic and the wine always unpronounceable. Egyptian rugs kissed my feet and cashmere throws kept me warm. Weekend getaways alternated between cosy mountain cottages and soothing riverside spas. 

It was a vivid dream and a happy one. A dream worth pursuing, worth dumping your home and your friends and family for, worth even shelling out large sums of money in the name of a higher education for. It was a dream that was guaranteed to become a reality in a year. My husband would be making money and I would be spending it. Yin and Yang, co-existing in perfect harmony. 

Well, things haven't quite turned out as I expected them to. Yes, I'm in America. Yes, my dear husband is well on his way to getting that dream MBA ticket that'll ensure us happiness for now and ever more. But there's a twist. See, we were fortunate enough to have landed here just as this country was going through a bit of a "slow-down". (Read the papers, they're full of details of what this means for everyone else.) What it means for me is that my dream has been a tad altered. It's everything I thought it would be, just in black and white.