Commuter marriage

Month one of the commuter marriage.

It sucks.

How does it suck? Let me count the ways....nope there is no way to be more eloquent or flowery with this particular sentiment. My marriage is at this point a roller coaster ride of emotional and physical highs and lows. I look forward to the weekends with a rabid ferocity. I dread Mondays with an equally opressive gloom. Sundays have become a bizarre mix of near bi-polar giddiness and depressive sulleness for both of us, although to be fair, my moodiness is much more pronounced than his. Girl. Go figure.

I know that I am silly crazy in love right now and that certainly affects my perceptions. My highs are going to be higher, my lows, lower. But even this realization doesn't temper how much it sucks.

So we both indulge in our habits while apart. He works too much and when I call before bed, he is still at the office. I sit in a quiet house worrying that the home he returns to is quieter still. He works and tires. I worry and fret about trains and cholesteral and no dinner. I buy yarn that I don't need and eat too many pieces of cinnamon toast for supper.

I know that the best blogs have a uniformity of subject. But tough tooties. This is for me.