The mother of my children, my best friend and supporter, organized a vote tonight: “raise your hand if you think Daddy should stop working and stay at home?”
The vote was unanimous: 4 to 0 in favor of more involved meals, fresh bread, home-made pasta, and all the other benefits of having someone at home during the day.
So tomorrow, we call an end to this charade. And one suggested script goes like this: I go explain to the Superior Professor that I was hired to be an Administrative Assistant, a job for which I have no qualifications, experience, or aptitude. And she is the manager, for which she has no qualifications, experience, or aptitude. There’s only room for one of us, so I leave it to her. I’ll give them two weeks tomorrow, and call it quits.
I married well, in many ways: if love were edible, we’d never starve in my house.