…I had one.
I felt it creeping up on me earlier in the week and succeeded in feigning it off until talking to Paul yesterday. I kept myself in check until I took the call down to the basement for privacy, then Hoover Dam exploded with blockbuster proportions.
Woe is me, blah-blah-blah, sobbing and an occasional gasp for air. Translation: “I miss you. Fraughter and her family are living here now. It’s great but I have no space of my own. I’m sleeping on the couch and it’s my house…wait it’s not anymore. I’ve quit my job and have plenty of time to spend with family and friends who, by the way, said they wanted to spend time with me before I left...except…except nothing.” (BFF? I’m not gone yet. I could have helped you bail water, scrub ceilings or just been there, but I wasn’t invited. Sigh.)
New leaf, new day.
I’ve overcome my melancholy. Things really aren’t that bad. In fact from one standpoint they’re actually quite nice. Spending time with my parents, children and grandchildren is priceless. The problem is the flip side of the coin. I miss Paul and am ready for my move to India and this new chapter in my life to begin. Therefore I’ll be leaving for the subcontinent a bit sooner than anticipated. Rest assured that I’ve already planned for the meltdown I’ll most likely experience once I get there. A few boxes of Puffs strategically packed in my suitcase and living with my husband again should to do the trick.