it’s st. patrick’s day. it’s also a saturday night. maybe i should be out drinking green beer. maybe i should be out just doing something, anything. but instead, i’m home, alone, and feeling somewhat sorry for myself, even though i don’t deserve the self-pity.
josh is on call, which is definitely not something he can help. but it doesn’t mean i’m always going to be thrilled about it. sometimes i spend these nights out with friends (the few left here that are not working themselves to the ground in the hospital), and it’s fun, but lately i have been feeling really guilty about that because it always involves spending money, which we don’t have. i also feel bad about enjoying myself while my overworked husband is, uh, being overworked. to the ground. it feels wrong, somehow. but sitting here by myself isn’t exactly resonating as ‘right’.
i don’t want to say anything stupid like, ‘it will be easier when we’re both suffering through it,’ because that comes with an entirely scary set of new challenges. the transition from having one of us constantly sleep-deprived to both of us is not going to be easy, and i will wish i had copious hours to spend lying on the couch and collecting surplus sleep once again.
so i guess at least the grass will be greener. eventually.
happy st. patrick’s day.
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