Day 1 of 112

I'm officially bummed out. And its day 1 of 112. 

The Fellow left early in the morning for a 4 month special training/professional (or something like that) course, and the organisation he belongs to (damn sadists), in a bid to add to the stress, don’t allow families (wives, kids, dog, noise) to join the poor unfortunate chaps. Their explanation? None. And since here you can’t really question the authorities, there’s no choice but to suck it up and deal with it.

And I thought I could. I honestly believed I would be able to handle these 4 months with poise and grace. Ha. So much for that. The whole of last week saw me tearing up at the drop of a hat at the very thought of the Fellow going away. “But I’m coming back na” was his way of getting me to smile. Not very helpful since the statement was accompanied by a list of instructions, about paying the bills, taking care of the car, locking up the house etc.

You see I’ve been married just 6 months and some days. So I still qualify as newly married enough to seriously be distressed by 4 months of forced separation (sounds so filmy I tell you). And four months is an effing long time no matter how many people tell you that time flies and all that blah. It doesn’t. It’s another of those things which are designed to lull you into having a sense of false security.

Not that I’m the weepy willowy kind in general. But like I was telling the Fellow, I’ve gotten used to him now and I’m going to miss even the annoying bits (which right now seem very endearing, but I know it’s just a passing phase. I’m not that depressed.)

Of course, the Fellow’s take on the whole thing is that it’s a good sign I’m so miserable. Shows I’m happy. He would have been more worried if I’d merrily wished him good-bye and sauntered off back to bed without a single tear. Perspective I tell you.