Husband guest-blogging here.
Just got new job.Gonna have at least one 12-hour day a week, probably two. Biggest concern? Wife's cranium.
It is routine for the first one home from work to encounter paper plates of dessiccated cat food on the floor, a lamp knocked over by a wide turn in the electric wheelchair, half-empty cans of dog food entertaining flies in the kitchen, CNN blaring on tv and 96.7 ("The way--uuh-aaave") on the radio.
All quickly remediable, but tedious and not fun to come home to after slaying the red-eyed dragon that is the westbound 10. This is especially true for my wife, as these are mother-in-law quirks we're talking about.
My wife's private space was reduced to one bedroom when we moved in, and I fear she might blow like Kilauea one of these days. Gotta get her out of this place, if it's the last thing we ever do. But the stars are not yet aligned, and the fact is everyone is trying their best to make it work -- orange cat, other cat, mom's cat, Stinky, Superdog, my best half, the old bat and me.
Will my new hours stir up the magma? I hope not.
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