Today begins my least favorite time of the year. Tom’s busy season. This year will be even worse, for his company is rolling out an entirely new computer system during the busy season. Tom is intimately involved with this new system rollout, and will be putting in longer and crazier hours than usual. He has warned me that this year will be crazier than usual. So I will no longer refer to this time as “the busy season,” but as “the crazy season.”
That’s better than my first choice, which was, “I want a divorce attorney on speed dial” season. (He is almost unbearable during this time of year)
In six months things will be better.
In six months the crazy season will be over.
In six months our financial situation will be better.
In six months it will be warm and I won’t have snotsicles sitting in my house.
In six months the construction will finished behind my house.
In six months it is possible (though not entirely probable) that A will be done with OT…and our financial situation will be even better.
In six months that last clump of hair on the top of my head will be a tolerable length and I won’t be tempted to cut my hair off super short again.
I can do six months. Just six months. It’s doable, right?