Phil and I have been arguing. Naturally enough, I suppose, given the circumstances; a wedding would be stress enough for most people, but add a move to another country and you have *major* stress levels. One of the main problems, I suppose, is that I am having a difficult time trusting him.
Last fall, when we’d broken up for a few months, he dated a lot of women…not just a lot of women, but several co-workers that he’d told me he had absolutely no interest in. I have a hard time reconciling that now…was he after them while we were together, flirtations at the water cooler and over lunch? Possibly. Probably. Will we run into the same situation again? Possibly. If I said probably, I couldn’t go on with this. And so I panic and stress, and we are both miserable during those times.
I don’t know what to do. I’d like to forget it, but doubt remains. If it doesn’t work between us, I will have little to come back to. My (new) car is being turned back to the loan company. I’ve cashed out my 401k to finance this. Everything has been dispersed: shipped, sold, given away.
What should I do?
There is a cool property for rent, affordable, but unfortunately NOT in a town anywhere close to someplace that I could find work. It’s a converted chapel, with gorgeous arched windows and hardwood floors.
From the estate agent’s site:
Communal entrance hallway, staircase leading to door to entrance lobby, with staircase to galleried landing with arch window, 14′ lounge, superbly fitted kitchen/breakfast room with gas fired boiler, two good sized bedrooms, bathroom with white suite. Outside, allocated car parking space, LPG bottle store.
How cool would that be? Living in a deconsecrated church? Maybe I could work from home, find enough freelance work to support us. Maybe Phil could find a job in that town, doing…something. Ok, so it’s not likely to happen. That doesn’t stop me from dreaming, though. ;)
*yawn* I’m just trying to make it through the week. A lot of the work that I do here is content-related rather than design-related, and very boring. When it comes to doing web landing pages every week, cutting and pasting text, product links, etc…well, to be honest, a monkey could do my job at times. And these times make up the bulk of what I do. Granted, I work with some very good friends, and I have whatever free time I need after the content updates, but still…sometimes it is very difficult to stay at my desk for eight hours.
This brings me to a pet peeve…belching and other less-mentionable habits in the workplace. Granted, programmers aren’t the most socially accomplished group, on the whole, but really – !!! One guy in particular is horrendous to work with. Loud belches, rude smells, an overturned pile of chili-cheese dip that he has been baking under his desk lamp since last November, the shuffling noise that his Birkenstocks make as he walks… he seems rather proud of his social retardation.
It makes me tense. I had to vent. ;)
We played paintball this weekend. I’ve found that I really enjoy it – somewhat surprising, considering that I spend most of my time at the computer or reading. I miss fencing a great deal, though, and perhaps this fills the need for sheer animal physicality and a release of aggression.
Phil set up a paintball page here. We’d taken pictures of everyone pretending to be in combat, which was slightly dorky and a lot of fun. I got to pose for some (less buff, less busty, of course) Lara Croft ones. It was a good day.
Today, however, has been a BASTARD of a Monday. :(
We are getting ready for the wedding, and the move. The apartment is in chaos, with boxes everywhere and piled boxes and bags of things to be given away, sold, shipped. There is so little that we can take with us: clothing, personal items, a few books, family photographs. There are decisions to be made about things that we love: my funky old cherub’s head that has hung on my wall for twenty years. Phil’s swords and golf clubs. I’ve packed the dog’s skull that sits on my desk, my daggers and my Where the Wild Things Are figures. Do I take the painted chest? Probably not. All of my books are packed into smallish boxes that I will have shipped eventually. I’ve never lived without my books; when I move, they are unpacked first. I alternate between panic and excitement.