Like the holidays. I'm just not sure what the hell's going on. It was so much easier when I was running solo: make a list, achieve the list, wait for the holiday. Now there's debate as to how we're doing the gifts--donating to charities, name exchange, regifting, etc.--and the argument has solidified into three or four groups. Mom will do whatever she wants to do; Rebecca's hurt no one's going along with her socially responsible suggestion; I have no idea who I'm buying for, plus I'm not earning any money so I don't feel I have a right to spend the money my wife's earning on random gifts that may violate whatever anyone thinks has been agreed upon for a gift exchange.
I fall very ably into the stereotype of the befuddled, clueless husband who dimly perceives the world rushing past him, with intermittant milestones of everyone's disappointment that I just don't get it. I used to be competent. I used to be considered quite intelligent. But now it's like I've been training all my life to be the best printing press operator and have suddenly been inducted into my new position as anaesthesiologist for a Kenyan hospital.
That said, weeks of failed job applications and writing submissions--I've never been rejected, I simply have never been responded to by anyone, at all, anywhere--have culminated in one particularly plum position falling into my lap: proofreader for an interesting marketing company. I just conducted a phone interview, got all dressed up in corporate formal to get in the appropriate frame of mind, and hope to hear from them in a few days. I'm amply qualified and actually enjoy the work they describe; my only stumbling block was in deciding what to ask for an hourly wage. We'll see how that goes.