I could go into what we spent all our days doing there but I really couldn't do so without context. I've considered for awhile writing a post about what I do for work, but I'm not sure if that would even be all that interesting to read. I get asked about it a lot actually and it requires like a minute-long spiel to explain it.
Came up with an idea to hide tattoos: BOOTS AND CARDIGANS. WIN.
Anyway, work was really stressful. We worked 8 or 9 hour days all week (including a Sunday) and had working lunches every day, and since there weren't a lot of gluten-free options in the immediate vicinity I had to eat salads, potato chips and candy while everyone else ate Chicago-style pizza and sandwiches from Jimmy John's. I don't mind all that, but eating a salad in the face of yummy pizza can be pretty demoralizing after awhile. Plus the very nature of a project go-live is such that everyone's running around like headless chickens and everything feels really chaotic. It was great to not worry about life at home for awhile, but still, it was pretty exhausting.
The upside to being in Chicago was that I got to meet up with a few friends I haven't seen since college, which was really, really awesome and a great way to end my day. I ate at the same Mexican restaurant every night, which was yummy but dangerous because at one point they tried to serve me flour tortillas, and I seriously almost ate them. If my friend Jessica, whose mother has celiac disease, hadn't pointed out to me that they were clearly flour tortillas I totally would've nommed on them and then vomited all over my hotel room. Can't take that shit for granted I suppose. I also got sexually harassed on the street so I think I got the full city-living experience.
Rob's been gone since Friday, July 20. The Thursday prior to that we got a call at around 4:30pm from his squad leader saying that they had to go in by 7:30 as they were heading off to Colorado. I guess I underestimated how burned out I was, since I was surprised at the extent to which I totally fucking broke down. I cried and I couldn't even look at Rob, couldn't even conceive of the fact that we had a weekend evening ripped from us and were facing yet another 14 days apart with minimal communication, and that led me down the rabbit hole of just being so fucking frustrated that my husband picks "lifestyle" jobs instead of just normal boring shit like everyone else. Have you ever read the story "The Rocket Man" by Ray Bradbury? It feels like that sometimes. Luckily the call got cancelled, so we had the night together, but goodbye in the morning was tough. As was the next 5 days we went with one or two text exchanges and one phone call.
But I'm here, and we're on day 7 or 8 or who-fucking-cares-because-it-always-changes of the roll so at least we're on the downward slope. And let's just say I've earned my Saturday, which will be spent in my brand-new hammock with a margarita and a massive collection of Ray Bradbury short stories.
AND NOW MORE PHOTOS: