Sometimes, I miss my husband more than I ever thought possible. Like now, when I work an 11-hour day, completely alone in the office, trying to organize and run an entire auction on a budget that might not even allow for real letterhead.
In the future, I'd better be able to look back on the last two years and say, "Oh yeah. Now I see the reason for all of that," because if I can't? If I can't, then I don't really know why I'm perpetrating self-inflicted torture now by moving back overseas and trying to establish a career in a field that's alternatingly invigorating and insomnia-inducing. For real. I don't know if I'm going to sleep tonight because I'm so worried that we can't even afford the postage for the freaking bulk mail solicitations I need to send.
I miss him so fucking much.
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