In the cover letter that accompanies all of the stories I exchange around the country for form rejections, as the conclusion of my little bio, are lines explaining that I am "working in a job only significant for writing fodder, hoping that my freshly completed first novel will rescue me from night work." Well, my first novel still only occupies my shelf, but here I am, having just finished my last night at the last and longest of a string of jobs I was militantly unfond of, rescued by my lovely wife.
Having excelled in her teacher credentialing program and the ancillary tests, she is now a fully fledged California public school teacher, in one of the few districts that pays a decent wage (still not reasonable considering how teachers influence the course of civilization, and with no health insurance; but compared to our usual pathetic yearly gross quite substantial) - and not enough that she will be my sugar mommy - but enough that we can swing preschool, so I can have a reasonably houred job, and take night classes, and have a normal evening together after this four and a half years of 8:30PM - 2:30AM, Monday through Friday.
Let's just hope I don't repay the fruits of her extraordinary work by getting in her hair when she would use that priorly unhusbanded time productively.
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