A Mommy Story

More proof that money is evil:

I get a call from my husband to inform me that, “Even though you didn’t know it was going to end up this way, by leaving [company I used to work for] you fucked us.” There was a little more in the conversation, but that about sums up the conversation. I finally explained I needed to get off the phone and get back to work, and he said “Fine.” and hung up.

There was no point continuing on the conversation. When he’s in one of these furious moods, there is no reasoning with him, and I can’t find anything to say but, “I’m sorry” over and over again. He said it wasn’t my fault, but other than that sentence it didn’t sound, to me, like he thought it wasn’t my fault.

Because I work part-time, he is unable to ditch the full-time job gig and focus on theatre. He doesn’t think he’s going to get into the teacher training workshop next year for stage combat, and he isn’t able to go back for his master’s degree until I am done with school. So I guess it is all my fault.

Still, I hate sitting here at work, trying (in vain) not to cry, and hoping no one walks in to ask me anything.

This isn’t where we wanted to be. But we’re trying.