F@#%!

So I've been counting down. So I've been looking forward to this triumphal (and by triumphal I really just mean "at long last") return to the U.S. Probably Durham, maybe Austin, possibly somewhere else. But in talks with Mark I realize now that he wants to stay here. Or at best, stay abroad. We're discussing Sydney and Barcelona. I'm trying to stay positive about both. But as I realize we're just putting off our lives another two years, and as I miss all my food and entertainment cravings (March madness is almost upon us), I don't know what the hell is going on or how I've been talked into this.

BUT I really don't have to be talked into anything. I don't work. I don't pay the bills. I merely ignore the children all day and get depressed every now and then. My opinion counts, I know, but in the end it's not I who has to go to work to make our lives possible. And putting off reality another two years honestly isn't going to hurt us financially.

Still, I want to go home. I really do. I don't know what it will take to make this staying abroad business acceptable to me, but whatever it is must be more than I can bear because I can't imagine all my stipulations for living in a place like Sydney, where it takes almost an entire day to get home to Texas. Sheesh.

New mantras: I love paella. And I can always go walkabout.