My husband and I are seeing our way through a major family tragedy. We have had some time with this new reality of ours and I am happy to report that we seem to be doing ok. We are not headed towards the divorce court. But,alas, with most tragedy brings change. And my husband welcomed this change. With open arms. Bastard.

So after nine years of a steady pay check, he decided to make the leap and switch things around. Go out into the field. After all, we live in ALBERTA. The land of the oilsands. Prosperity checks. King Ralph. There is money to be made, it's just for the taking. And he is right. Change is good. The economy is booming. Why shouldn't we take advantage of it. Right???
Let me tell you why. Because I am neurotic. Change is not good. It is stressful. It is hard. Nine years meant job security, higher vacation pay, R.R.S.P contributions, and a disgustingly good wage. All for pushing a broom. (Just kidding honey, we all know how hard welders work.)

Not only did he change jobs, he changed shifts. So now he works grave shift. No more crawling into bed together, no warming my freezing feet between his butt cheeks, I mean, legs. He now gets home when the kids get up and has breakfast with them. Makes their lunches. That is MY job, bucko. He then proceeds to sleep all day, and gets up when the kid come home from school. He helps them with their homework, makes jokes, helps me with supper preparations. All of this and he is making darn near double the money. So why am I complaining?

Neurotic. I believe I mentioned that. And my house makes really weird sounds at night when I am by myself.