The Journey Begins

Thanks for joining me!
Although you may want to run away when you start reading.

That’s OK.  That’s how I feel today.

Backstory…hubs lost his job in 2014.  He decided to sell Real Estate.  It started well.  Then he realized he had the opportunity to do community good things and is now on the board of the parks department, the chamber of commerce, multiple committees and organizations.  And let’s not forget his love of photography.  And used drums.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s really good at photography. His eye is coming along, but let me, an artist/administrative person give him any suggestions and he’s a prima donna.  “Don’t tell me what to do!!”  Fine.  Don’t ask me to go with you when you want to shoot photos for hours and then complain because I bring a book or knitting.

When you sell 5 rather small houses in a year, you aren’t contributing.  When you opt not to take your pension “so it can grow”.  (Screw that I’m the only one working and I don’t make a buttload of moula!)  When you don’t want to try to sell your photography.  (But you can buy a $700 lens for a gratis photo shoot.) ……….and I’m not supposed to spend much at all.  and pay the bills.  and do laundry.  and cook all the meals.  and clean up afterwards.  and clean the house.  and grocery shop.  and continue to work 40+ hours a week.

Now.  This morning we go to get gas (because there’s a discount due to my judicious grocery shopping) and I find out that he’s lost another house because someone is working with a friend now.  I suggested that he send a thank you note to them, because they are also friends, with some of his cards and ask that they share them with their friends.  “Oh, I can’t do that. That’s not ethical.”  Fuck your ethics. It’s not unethical.  It’s fucking survival.  “I feel like you’re my mother…mommy says do this,” says he.

Well, Mommy isn’t coming home tonight.  If I do, I’m sure you aren’t sleeping in my bed…that would just be creepy, eh?

Yeah, this is a rant right now.  I want to scream.  I want to cry.  I want to not worry about anything.  I want to go to Michael’s and buy something fall-like, but there’s no money.  I want grandchildren, but neither daughter in law wants to have kids. In 20 years, no one will even remember me.  Stories I have held in my heart that my grandma told me so I could tell my grands are going to die with me.

I thought at this time of my life there would be grand-kids, there would be some breathing room with the finances, there would be fewer hours I’d have to work, there would be stress-less mornings with coffee on the deck.

No grands, no breathing room, same hours at work and home, mornings are stressful because I hurt with developing rheumatoid arthritis, and the deck needs to be re-decked, the house painted, the lawn re-seeded, the list seems endless.

Ok.  I’m done for now.  I’m just going to go cry.  I’m not even hungry…and if you knew me, you’d know that was scary.

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton