Wednesday, February 15, 2017

irresponsible is my middle name

I really want to go home next month.

The line up for Comic Con is pretty amazing; I mean, they have Weird freakin' Al! I have seen him in concert, what? three, four times? Ugh, I so want to go.
I miss home. I miss my family. I miss my babies. I haven't been home since the wedding, and I was a little distracted that week, to say the least.

I can't afford to fly home. I can't drive home, because we are a one-car family. Derrick can't come with me, because he needs to be at work.

I am trying to convince a couple of co-workers to take a little road trip with me. I told Derrick about this idea over text, he suggested talk about it more when we got home. We sat in our apartment parking lot, still buckled into our seats, and talked for ten or twenty minutes. He asked how I planned to arrange the money, I explained I'd pick up co-workers' shifts to cover the two shifts I would miss, and I'd save all of my tips for a month, and we'd not go out to eat all month. Splitting up the costs, the trip should be about $250 each. Derrick said he felt it was "financially irresponsible" to take this trip.

I burst into tears.

I couldn't help it.

I quietly choked out that I miss home.

My sweet husband pulled me closer and said if there is any way we can figure out covering bills and being caught up on everything, he would be more than happy to have me make the trip.
He is great.

I don't know if it could actually happen. I don't know if my co-workers will really want to, nor if they'd be able to.
But I hope so.

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