Most mornings, my wife gets up before me. (For anyone new to the blog, she has moved into the spacious bedroom suite, leaving me alone in the upstairs master bedroom). She sees the girls and puts them on the school bus. In the USA, school starts so early that I consider it a crime against nature. My high school girl has to be outside for the school bus by 6:40am. My middle school girl gets a ride with a friend at 7:00am. Shortly after the kids have gone, my wife leaves for the office.
Sometime between 7am and later, I get up, check my e-mail (I love my iPhone — I don’t even have to get out of bed to find out if I received any urgent work e-mails overnight, and can check home e-mails too), see if I can find my brain cells (I seem to lose them each night), and get on with showering, dressing and the other necessary preparations for work.
Today, I got up earlier than usual so that a colleague could pick me up at 7am and we could carpool together.
Even though last night didn’t go well (see here), I wasn’t expecting an e-mail from my wife to say that she is now planning to move out.
There’s really no useful, witty, or touching comment I can add. I have been preparing myself for this, but hoped it wouldn’t come to pass, that perhaps it would sort itself out over time.