It was a long weekend here in Canada. All weekend (except Monday – I was too bushed), I took the boys out to a coffee shop first thing in the morning. Tried to give W a little quiet, and hey. It was nice.
Sunday, W and I went to the movie. It was nice, I suppose. I don’t know how much effort it was for W to be with me, but I guess it wasn’t too bad. She did offer.
The rest of the weekend W was painting D#2’s room, and I puttered around. Pffffffft.
I find myself reticent to go home from work. Who needs to come home to the same-old same-old. I’m not much of a priority in W’s life, and when I get home to do a bunch of chores before karate, it’s just more of the same-old same-old.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be important enough for W to make a real effort. Maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s not worth the effort. Maybe all we have anymore is the business of bringing up our kids. Maybe the rest isn’t worth the effort.
Not looking for advice right now. Just building up the courage to go home.
