This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things

I knew it would happen. Heavens forbid I actually admit to being happy.

B rage-quit his job yesterday.

I have so many words, and yet none will come in any kind of coherent form.

He promises he’ll get a new job quickly. I find him playing with his VR. He swears he’s looked and just doesn’t want to “burn out” on it. He can’t have looked for than an hour at most. He also steam-cleaned all of our patio cushions and a binful of stuffed animals I just pulled out of storage last week. He’d only been awake for four hours.

He says he’s in the “brainstorming” phase because he doesn’t want to “settle” for another job like he did with this one. Yet we’ve been fighting for weeks over the fact that he wouldn’t take even half an hour a day to examine his options and consider other careers while he still had an income. I’ve been pushing and pushing for proactive research and consideration, but here we are again, facing reactive necessity.

We cannot live here on my salary alone. It cannot be done. I really do not want to raid our savings (again!) to live on because he’s unemployed (again!) and making all kinds of excuses (again!) for himself. He says he “doesn’t need a supervisor” but I’ve been down this road with him before. The business he quit his hotel job to start but then spent most of his time (and our money) on buying “inventory” and very little time actually selling, while I worked two jobs to make ends meet. The postal job he claimed he could transfer from our small-town hell to our new town, only to then tell me it was “processed” as a separation and he’d have to start over, even though I’d asked him repeatedly to confirm that he could transfer, since his only source was an unreliable union rep. The four months he spent unemployed when we first moved here because he doesn’t have a degree and had to “clean out” so he could pass a drug test. (Legalizing MJ has its upsides and its downsides.)

I literally almost cannot breathe right now, I’m so angry and panicked and frustrated. We’d had a very serious fight just the night before about how he needed to start looking so that he could quit this job with somewhere to go. And the next day, the VERY NEXT DAY, he just quit. I wanted him to leave that job, because it was killing both of us with all the stress, but I absolutely did not want him to do it this way. Now he’s feeling better, and I’m feeling all kinds of horrible. I love him so much, but these are the things that make me think I’m better off on my own. Except we’ve just signed a joint three-year lease on a townhouse I cannot afford on my own.

He’s been going on for months now about how much work he was doing at the shop, all the extra things he was doing, all the ways he was handling customers and jobs and how he was getting shit done. And I’ve been the one living with the remnants of all that “extra”—the anger, the exhaustion, the complete unwillingness to do anything or go anywhere because he “only got one day off a week” and needed to “decompress.” Yet he tells me he can’t “spend hours looking for a job” because he’ll “get burned out”? Seriously? You can bust ass for ten hours a day, six days a week for them, but you can’t put in four or five hours for us? For ME?

I want to cry. My chest is exploding. Once again, I can’t call and talk to my family, because it will be too fucking embarrasing to tell them that he’s out of work again. I will probably skip the planned coworker get together this week because I’m too embarrassed to be the wife of the guy who simply won’t keep a job. Not CAN’T keep a job, but WON’T. He talks big about retiring early, not wanting to work forever, etc., but he won’t do anything to make that happen. I’ll be working well into my golden years just to support myself. Then I spaz out on him and mention how much he hates working, and he tells me I’m wrong, he likes working, he just didn’t like this company, or that job, or whatever.

He’d better find something soon. And he’d better not give me one fucking ounce of shit about pinching pennies in the meantime. Life is about to get very uncomfortable for both of us.

Again.