That Others May Freeze

Husband is leaving for Orlando in 3 days time. He will be gone for 10 days. During this period the purchase of our new home will finalize, Meeker will likely run away, I will consume nothing but homemade soup and salad (what I like to refer to as the Loneliest Loser Diet), the Pacific plate will drift another 0.109 cm eastward and historical records for the season indicate an average of 5.75 cm of snow will fall on my driveway.

Obviously I am pissed about all of this.

Husband's job is important and his skills must be honed like a samurai blade in order for him to perform it safely and effectively. Which explanation he has stuck to for 10 years in defense of why he must go somewhere warm every January while I spend two weeks shoveling, staring at fog or listening to the howling of hurricanes. It's not as though he wants to go. His country demands it. It's a sacrifice. That others may live, etc. etc.

"It's my duty, honey."

I have learned to approach the annual training schedule with something close to equanimity, through the help of yoga and meditation and vodka. I understand the need for constant training which could save lives, not the least his own. I steel myself to the time the light of my day must be gone from me and trust that it is for the greater good.

It's just really hard to remember while I stand hip-deep in snow, screaming myself hoarse at Meeker as he disappears over the horizon, wondering how I am going to move all of our worldly possessions from the PMQ to the new house. With the Volvo.