Sunday, July 15, 2012

Honey, he's home!

My husband has been at the same job for the last seven years. It paid well, but it didn't treat him well. We had some nostalgic attachments to it because it was where we met, but other than that, we had lost our attachment to the company. As the company grew, it lost it's connection to the employees that it used to treasure. It used to take care of it's people, and now it just, you know, sucks the life out of them, chews them up and spits them out. He was working five days with no true weekend. It was almost an hour away from the house. He worked overtime all the time because it was there, and it significantly bolstered his pay. Not to mention that, without him, no one in the store could find their asses with both hands. He really was keeping it all together.

And then there was a new opportunity. And then he took it. And now he has a big kid job with a 8:00-4:30 schedule and weekends off. Now he is independent and doesn't have to ask permission of his boss. Now he is someone who people go to for help while actually, you know, thanking him for his time. Now he doesn't wear a name tag (that he refused to wear anyway) or a uniform. Now we need to go shopping. 

Now he's home kind of all the time.

Now... shit.

I love my husband. I am also immensely proud of him for getting this new opportunity, and also for being so indispensable to his old job for so long. Don't underestimate that. But he is, like, home all the time now. Sundays used to be my day. I worked 12 hours days in the office Monday through Thursday. Friday I work from home all day. Saturday he and I spend together. But Sunday, Sunday was mine. Sunday was mine to go to the mall, take hour long showers, grocery shop and eat junk food (not in that order). Sunday was when I could sit on the couch all day watching terrible television shows on Netflix and not worry about entertaining anyone other than my overstuffed gullet. 

Oh, Sunday. 

We're adjusting. 

Husband thinks that if we both have time off, it should be spent together. He wants "us" time. I love "us" time, but I really love "me" time. Like, me and I are bestest buddies. We have entire conversations that the rest of the world wouldn't understand. We like television melodrama. We love cheese fries. We like being left alone with each other. We are total loners, but we do it together. 

Again, we're adjusting. 

Remember when I was single and got to be a total effing loner without worrying about anyone else's feelings? When no one cared what I did? Then I decided to get married to this dude who is awesome, but he still exists and it's totes throwing off my groove?

Again, I love my husband, and I wouldn't trade him in for all of the alone Sundays in the world. I'm just, you know, adjusting. 

Sigh. As always, it's hip to be square, kids.

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