i heard el Jefe’ rustling around upstairs last night, specifically in the metal filing cabinet in the closet (drawers labeled “shit”, “more shit”, “legal shit” and “misc. shit”). my hearing is annoyingly good, which explains why i am a light sleeper, but not why i can’t get back to sleep. i digress. when asked what he was doing (when el Jefe’ was in the same room so we weren’t shouting across the house and so we wouldn’t wake the Punkin), he responded quite honestly that he was gathering old application information in order to apply for a promotion. no surprise. he works for the State. folks retire when they’re in the prime of their lives (bastards!) and then go have second careers and double-dip because they have pensions (bastards!). the retirement domino effect started in April this year and by about August it appeared the dominos could tumble in el Jefe’s path.
this promotion could require relocation. i gave el Jefe’ the go ahead months ago (but before i found a Peanut, so to speak). my company has an office within commuting distance. i could transfer. at the time, it sounded like a new and exciting change. but today, it sounds like a new and scary change.
i worry about Punkin’s daycare. i worry about leaving my very few friends, including Punkin’s godmother, the only baby sitter he has ever had (three times, i think). i worry about selling our house. i worry about my parents who currently live 10 miles from me, even though they don’t help me one iota, i guess i need to be close in case they need my help. i worry about living near a small airport, where it will cost a minimum of $400 to fly anywhere because it is a small airport. i worry that this will happen quickly and i’ll have to find new doctors and a new hospital. and i worry that i cannot voice these worries to el Jefe’ for fear that he will sacrifice a chance at advancement because i worry too much.
in the words and spirit of my good-natured, happy, laid-back husband: “We’ll see.”
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