The Plan

Okay...so...the unofficial title of the plan is:

Work with Hubster and Hope Like Hell We Don't Kill Each Other.

Admittedly, it isn't much of a plan, but it's all we have.


That was rock bottom. It's like...being in a bad relationship. One day you look at the person next to you on the sofa and you think, "WTF am I doing with this idiot?"

And then that big, red switch that says, "DO NOT PRESS" connecting your heart to your brain just...flips. Flips itself off.

After that you just can't feel the same way about that person again. Ever. No matter how hard you try or pretend like everything is fine. It isn't. And it can't be ever again.

I wasn't completely honest with you all about everything that transpired in California. It wasn't all cute flight companions and truffle pudding souffle. It actually was a pretty horrific professional experience thanks to the manic-depressive, bi-polar human incarnation of evil back at the office in Huntsville.

Anyway...The Berkeley Incident killed my relationship with my job. The final nail in the coffin. It might as well have blown its nose in its sleeve at dinner...or forgotten my birthday...or called my sister a bitch...because there was no going back in my heart of hearts.

And as I was sitting on the phone at 5:00 in the morning, 1,200 miles from home, crying, asking Hub, "What do I do? How do I deal with this?" he asked, "Why are you still putting up with this?" Unsurprisingly I didn't have a good answer. Then he said, "Come to work with me, I need you."*

I. Need. You. The magic words. The "I'll still respect you in the morning" of Eldest Child/Type A personalities.

And the seed was planted. In the last month it has germinated and Hub has been getting excited about it, and so have I.

As far as Hub is concerned the immediate goal, our 60 day plan after I come on board, is not to get organized or provide excellent service or, you know, make money. It is to...wait let me get the quote exactly correct...Oh, that's right. The goal is to not end up "throwing axes at each other."

That sounds doable...I think.

Next up: Crazy Apron Plan

*For those who don't know, he/we started a party rental business about three years ago that is just now profitable enough to support...however meagerly...both of us. But you have to admit - helping people throw parties isn't a bad way to earn a living.

Comments

Le laquet said…
I would find not throwing axes do-able. Mainly 'cause my aim is really crap and I'd damage walls and laptops and things ;o)
Anonymous said…
I followed your link to this site from 'Not For Picky Eaters" and read backward through this month. Your blog is excellent. And, boy, you are leading a really interesting life!
Good luck with the new career; that big woman in the waiting room would have given ME nightmares; I hope your friends son gets some good pointers from his dad and does better the next time (poor little guy) and I hope your friend is well and recovered from his surgery.
Also, unless you trademark it I want your 'goal' on my and the better half's tombstone: 'Married 40+ years and never threw axes at each other'.
A worthy life goal and final testament for the long-time married ;-)
Country Girl said…
You are my hero.
Lumpy said…
I am so proud of you! You will be great for the hubster's business. And as for the Apron plan, if it is what I think it is, it is a good one. An untapped market. Ahhh...to be working with the perfect hubby.
Unknown said…
AWESOME!!!!
wineandroasts said…
Thanks for all the encouragement!

I appreciate you all more than you know. :o)
Anonymous said…
I just know you are going to be FABULOUS in business together!

HunkyDory are those big weirdos that would spend every day all day together if they could.

What Country Girl said; only in my voice and louder!
Melissa said…
I'm just catching up...but WOWZERS!

Good for you. You will be just maaaah-ve-lous dahling at ze party plannink. Lucky girl. :)
alejna said…
Hurray! Put on the party pants!

It sounds like a great plan. Especially the bit about not throwing axes.

And good for you for ditching the bad relationship with your job. (Now I have to go see what's up with the truffle pudding souffle.)