So, It's Been A While . . . .

I can't believe it's been over a month since I last posted anything. And what a helluva' of a month it's been.

Backstory: A while ago my wife was offered a position in the family biz as corporate counsel (yeah, she's an attorney. Luckily I don't have anything she'd want if she ever got sick of my shit!) back in the homeland. We talked it over. With the girl and the lack of family, hell, let's face it, we're pretty fucking anti-social so there's not even many friends to lean on, the missus and I decided we oughtta' head back home. We want our girl to know her grandparents and, with any luck, her remaining great grandparents. And it is our homeland. Up here, we're nobody. Our family name means nothing. Sure, we're starting to establish ourselves. But there's still something to be said about going back to the land you loved and the people there, for better or worse.

So, things went swimmingly. My job told me I could work from home. Some bad shit went down with her job, so her boss basically told her she was done working for the firm at the end of the month. She had planned to stay through September. This is why you never, ever, give anyone more than two weeks notice. YOU WILL GET FUCKED.

As a result, she had to go to home to the biz sooner. With the girl, which makes sense. But I'm stuck up here in hippie hell all by myself trying to sell our house.

Honestly, so far it isn't too bad. I've been so busy with my new "promotion" and all the bullshit that I haven't been home for long during the last two weeks. But I still miss them horribly. I hate the empty house. I hate the car rides home without the girl. The beautiful sunsets are worthless without anyone to share them with.

So, there's the super-condensed version of the last three months. I'm stressed, tired and probably worst of all, lonely. But everytime I start to feel sorry for myself or think about the firsts I'm missing, I just have to remember at least there are firsts to miss. And it can always be worse.

If going home alone, to an empty house, is the worst thing that happens to me today I should consider myself lucky.

More bitching to ensue . . . .