So a few months back my husband returned to his home, and I stayed behind in mine, formerly ours, making preparations to follow him as soon as possible. I came here to visit him in the interim, did an interview, was offered a job and resigned from my old and beloved job. And then nothing. Followed by more nothing. As my time and my meagre savings idled away, I danced between resentment at having left a job I loved, warts and all, and taking advantage of my time off. Mostly the latter.
But all things, good or otherwise must come to an end, and with news
of movement on the job front, I began to step up my efforts to downsize
and pack. After illness and further delays, I was collected by my
husband (romantic right? only lessened by a cough, the sniffles and
aches in places I didn't know could hurt).
And so here I was, ready to work, in what would almost be my dream
job. Which I did, until we all realized that wasn't going to work very
well for me, my husband, our marriage or my studies. So here I am, again
in the great unemployed. Trying to make the best of our odd situation.
Did I mention we don’t have our own place yet? No? We don’t. So right
now, I study. Or so I tell myself. And another job is in the offing, and
I am with my husband, no plane ticket needed. So as I am reminded by my
sisters, I must focus on the positive (which I am) and try to make the
best of it (not always possible, what with horrible banking service,
lack of privacy, dodgy cell phone service). But things will get better
and yes, I am grateful for what I have, including an amazing husband, my
sisters to whine to, my mother to set me straight, my in-laws (and
bedroom doors that lock). And of course my kindle.