The Vegkat

Or don’t. Whatever. I’m not superstitious.  BUT!!!

You know how I’ve been saying we are (hopefully) going to move this year?  Well, in order for us to do that, my husband needs to get transferred from his current location to the company headquarters downstate.  He can’t do that until a job opens up and he gets it.

WELL, a job opened up.  And it’s pretty much exactly what he’s doing now.  And he fucking kicks ass at his job as is at the top of the “to promote” list.  This guy works over 60 hours a week, commutes 45 minutes each way, and kicks butts and takes names while he’s there.  I would know, I used to work there before I got pregnant and got out of that god-forsaken hell-hole.  He likes it, though.  Anyway, all the years of busting his ass and hardly ever being home so I could be home has gotten him a reputation there, and everyone knows about it.  Even the big-wigs downstate.

So he’s applying for this job.

There’s nothing I can do now but sit on my hands and wait.  But OHMYGODOHMYGOD this could be it.  And if he gets it, I can leave this stupid little town and go back down there and be close to my parents, my sister (AND THE BEHBEH!), and all the friends I left years ago.  AND we get a new house.

So….

Yeah.  I’m trying not to freak out.  But if he doesn’t get that job, those fuckers had better watch out for the wrath of Kat.  Or something.