Draft #42

I've typed up new entry after new entry, and then changed my mind about posting.

There's the one about how I turned down a job that seemed like a bad idea even though everyone consulted told me to take it. I was so certain I was doing the Right Thing. Now, I'm left with self-doubt since I'm the only one who thought my choice was the Right Thing.

There's another one about how we're stuck in some weird inertia in which both @ and I realize we need marital counseling (to help us figure out the win-win thing) and neither one of us is picking up the phone to get that started. What does that say about us? What does that say about our commitment to our marriage? (The good news is we had at least one discussion about a Serious Topic that did not end in yelling or tears. So: yay, growth.)

Over the weekend, there was one about my reluctance to go on a Valentine's date with my husband. Mostly because it wasn't even really a date as much as my mother-in-law to pushing us out the door so she could watch the tot.

The ongoing conversation about whether we can afford to move to a single family home in our 'hood (the answer surprised us) and, more importantly, whether we can break even on selling our place (another surprise). Of course, that includes my ambivalence on the "need" for more space as propagated by society versus the need for more space as demanded by my horrific inability to live simply.

I've been reading too much - Dresden Files, vastly superior to the ridiculous Sookie Stackhouse books - and knitting a lot (in an effort to use up the stash of yarn taking up too much space in our cluttered bedroom).

I wanted to talk about all of these things with/at you. But this is what you get instead.