Am exhausted. Physically, mentally, emotionally, psychologically.
The nice man with the nice house back East wants to give me a job. But that job would require a lot of overseas travel.
Fellow with a job in the old Duce's country has offered it to me. Buck-twenty, housing, generous car allowance (got my eye on one of those Fasteratis).
Another fellow in Old Down East state wants to offer me a gig. Buck and a nickel, ridiculously priced housing (could get me a circa 1790 stone farmhouse at 4,700 sq. ft. with an in-ground cement pond, a stone barn at 1,500 sq. ft. kitted out as an office and gym and workshop, and 14 acres of land for my horses (or ATVs, as the case may be), for under Two-Fitty.
But all of them mean leaving Themselves. A Rubicon I just can't cross at the moment.
Which leaves me here, a la @Thinker, in Limboland.
There's a lot of living out there. I don't see much of it here.
Meanwhile, I just keep on keeping on, breaking up my past patterns, much to the [often amusing] frustration of STBX Herself.
She busted herself up somehow but refuses to ask for help, though Themselves tell me she laments not having it when they're chez STBX -- but I'm dammmmmed if I'm going to offer it.
She changes the custody schedule, I accept; then the "urgent thing" is suddenly less urgent and she wants to go back to the original, "unless you have already made plans."
I reply that whether or not I have plans is irrelevant; the schedule is set, I agreed to the change, and that's that.
She pokes, she probes, she prods; Bartleby-like, I let it all pass by, preferring not to respond. So she ups the ante: "Can I ask you something? Do you ever miss being married to me?"
That's a fine way to end a mandatory appearance at The Boy's birthday party, the two of us athwart a booth-table of rapidly diminishing size, Herself looking like Herself -- a dangerous thing.
And Smiley's Person smiles a Cheshire smile, looks directly and deeply into her eyes, pouring it all on, and in his best whisky voice murmurs, "I'm sorry - did you say something?"
