He's leaving. On Wednesday ( we think... you never know untill about 48 hours before the flight) my husband will fly back to his ship which we think (again, all things subject to change) will be in Trinidad. We have had a wonderful time while he's been home. It's summer in the Northeast so of course it's really busy; sun, sand and all the things that go along with it. Last weekend we spent three days traveling through Vermont and New Hampshire on the most wonderful and romamtic "getaway" anyone could imagine. I started a new job last Tuesday after recovering from a bout of food poisioning. Thank god he was home for that... I'm not sure how that would have gone if he wasn't around to help me get through that. The new job is going really well and I'm excited to ease into fall with a new routine.
He's been having a little trouble with his free time. It's difficult for most people, I think, to have a set amount of free time during which you must relax before the free time ends and work begins again. He's very good at staying busy, but to the point where (here we go with the wife nagging) some of the things that must get done are passed by. Fishing trips take precedence over changing the oil in the car, etc.
About three days ago I started thinking about him leaving. My moods began to swing a bit more toward the unhappy and my paticients began to slowly thin like a piece of bubble gum streached tight. Friends and family poking fun at me have been met with a stern glare and a snappy and defensve retort insead of the usualy friendly banter. He's leaving. He'll be gone for 28 days. It's time to put on my armour. No one else will be around the walk the dog, no one else to do the banking if I'm at work, no one to come home to at the end of the day. Things change, I will watch trashy television and eat popcorn for dinner instead of watching Discovery Channel and having a complete and well balanced meal. It's not bad really, I LOVE popcorn and trashy TV and I think everyone should be so lucky to have that sort of time to them selves. I think becoming a bit of a grouch is just a result of trying to deal with the impending transition.
This is the life we've chosen. It's not a bad life. Just a different one.