Chapter 12 twelve

twelve If there is one word that can sum up our daily life in the first three years, it is "making money".At all times, except when we were sleeping, we were occupied with thinking how we might raise enough money to meet all the necessary expenses.And usually just barely making ends meet.There is nothing romantic at all.Remember that famous poem by Omar Khayyam?What shade a roll of poetry, a loaf of bread, a jug of fine wine, and so on, and so on?With "Scott on Trust" instead of that collection of poems, how much poetry do you think I will have, to live that idyllic life?Ah, is it heaven?Phew, bullshit!Really got me in the shade, what I have to think about is how much that book will cost (can we get used ones?) and where (if there is such a place) can we set up an account to get That bread and wine.Then there is how we can scrape together enough money to settle our debts.

1 Omar Khayyam (approximately 1040-1123): Persian poet and astronomer, author of four-line poem collection "Rubai Collection" (old translation "Rubai Collection".) Life changed.Even the smallest expenditures are scrutinized and decided by the ever-vigilant budget committee in their heads. "Hey, Oliver, let's go see Beckett's play 1 tonight." 1 Samuel Beckett (1906-1989): a contemporary playwright of the absurd who was born in Ireland and lived in France.His most famous play is Waiting for Godot (1954). "I said, three dollars." "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you get a dollar and a half, and I get a dollar and a half." "Do you agree or disagree?" "Neither. It means three dollars." We spent our honeymoon on a yacht with twenty one children.That is to say, I sailed a thirty-six-foot Rhodes yacht every morning from seven o'clock until my little passengers had had enough fun. Gianni led the children's team. The place was called the Pecourt Boat Club, and it was at Port Dennis 1 (not far from Hynes), and the club had a big hotel, a marina, and dozens of rental houses. In one of the smaller In the bungalow, I put up a sign in my imagination: "When Oliver and Jenny are not talking about love, they sleep here." Serve customers all day in a friendly manner (because our income mainly depends on their little account), Jenny and I are both so nice to each other, I think we both should be commended. I just said "nice" because I really can't find an adjective to describe Jennifer What is it like to be in love with Cavillelli. Oh, sorry, it should be Jennifer Barrett.

1 Cape Cod, located in southeastern Massachusetts, is a summer resort. We found a cheap apartment in North Cambridge before heading to Cape Cod.I call it North Cambridge, though strictly speaking it is within the limits of the town of Somerville.The house, according to Jenny, was "in disrepair."It was originally a house for two families, but now it has been converted into four apartments. Although the rent is "cheap", it is not worth the price at all.But what can I do as a graduate student?Housing is tight! "Hey Al, why don't you say the fire department hasn't declared this house a hazard?" she asked.

"Probably they're afraid to go in," I said. "I'm afraid too." "You weren't afraid to come last time in June," I said. (This conversation took place after we returned to school in September.) "I wasn't married then. Now that I'm married, I don't think this place is safe anyway." "What are you going to do?" "Speak to my husband," she replied. "He'll figure it out." "Hey, am I not your husband?" I said. "Really? Show me the proof." "How to prove it?" I asked, but I was thinking in my heart: No, no, how can I make such a fuss on the street?

"Hold me in," she said. "You don't necessarily believe this nonsense, do you?" "Hold me in, believe it or not, we'll talk about it later." Ok.I picked her up and carried her up the five steps to the porch. "Why stop?" she asked. "Isn't it at the door?" "No, no," she said. "I can even see our names next to the bell." "Damn! This is not our legal door. Go upstairs, you wimp!" There were twenty-four flights of stairs to our "legal" house; half way up I had to stop to catch my breath.

"Why are you so heavy?" I asked her. "Didn't you think that perhaps I have a body?" she replied. Now I'm even more out of breath. "Really?" I managed to say these two words. "Ha! Did it scare you?" "No." "Don't lie to me, preppy." "Yes. Just now, I was nervous." I carried her all the way upstairs. It's one of the only moments I can remember where the word "get money" has nothing to do with it. Thanks to my glorious name, we were able to open a debit account at a grocery store that wouldn't otherwise give credit to students.Yet my name hurt us in one of the most unexpected places, the school where Jenny was going to teach: Shady Lane Primary School.

"Of course, the salary in this school cannot be compared with that in the public school," the headmaster, Ms. Anne Miller Whitman, said to my wife, and then she went on to say a lot, meaning that the Barrett family was very serious about "this aspect." question" would not mind anyway.Jenny tried her best to dispel the principal's illusions, but apart from the 3,500 yuan annual salary that had been agreed on earlier, all she got was a series of "hehehe" that lasted nearly two minutes.Jenny said that the Barretts had to pay the rent like everyone else, and Ms. Whitman thought that Jenny had a wit.

When Jenny told me these things, I used my imagination and came up with ideas about what Ms. Whitman could do with her—hehehe—three thousand and five hundred dollars.But then Jenny asked me if I would drop out and raise her so that she could take pedagogy courses so she could teach in the public schools.I looked at the whole situation, thought about it seriously for about two seconds, and came to a concise and clear conclusion: "Bullshit." "Look how good you are at talking," my wife said. "Then what should I say, Janer—a 'hehehe' too?" "Forget it. Just learn to eat spaghetti with me!"

I learned.I learned to eat spaghetti.And Jenny's cooking methods are indeed infinitely varied, and the noodles always have a unique flavor.With the money we earned in the summer, plus her salary, and I plan to do a night job at the Christmas post office to earn some extra money during the busy Christmas season, we can get along a little bit.Naturally, we missed a lot of movies (and she missed a lot of concerts), but our balances finally met. Income and expenditure finally meet, but we also come to an end everywhere in the road of life.I mean, our social lives have changed dramatically for both of us.We're still in Cambridge, and it makes sense that Gianni could hang out with her friends from the music scene.But there is no time.She came home exhausted from school and had to cook dinner (eating out was out of the question).My own friends are also very knowledgeable and never bother us.I mean, they don't even invite us, lest we have to invite them back—don't know if you know what I mean.

We don't even watch football games. I was a member of the varsity club and was entitled to a special seat at the fifty yard line where the members sit.But a ticket costs six yuan, and one visit costs twelve yuan. "No," Jenny argued with me, "it's six dollars. Don't take me with you. Go alone. I don't know anything about football, so I heard the audience yelling 'Come on,' but you like it, so I You must go and see it!" "Okay, this case is over!" I usually answer her like this, after all, I am the husband and the head of the family. "Besides, I can also use this time to study." However, on Saturday afternoon, I will still stick the semiconductor radio to my ear and listen to the cheering shouts of the fans for a long time. Geographically speaking, these fans are far away from me. It was only a mile away, but now they were from another world. During a game against Yale, I used my special privileges as a varsity club member to get a seat for a law school classmate, Robbie Wald.After Robbie left our house gratefully, Jenny asked me to explain to her again what kind of person is eligible to sit in the varsity club members' seat.So I explained to her again: no matter how old or young, big or small, high or low in social status, anyone who has made great contributions to Harvard on the sports field can sit there. "The same in the water?" "A sports star is a sports star," I replied, "on earth and in water." "It's just you, Oliver," she said. "You're a 'frozen'." I didn't take her word for it.I thought it was nothing more than Jennifer's sharp mouth, saying a wisecrack to you, and I don't want to think about her asking whether Harvard's sports tradition has other meanings.For example, there may be a vague meaning: Although the military stadium can accommodate 45,000 spectators, as long as they are athletes from that year, they will all sit in that special seating area.All go and sit there.Old and young.In the water, on the ground - even "frozen".Was it just to save six dollars that I refused to go to the playground on those Saturday afternoons? Forget it, she just has other thoughts in her mind, so I don't want to say more.