I'm leaving tomorrow, driving off into the mid-morning sun and leaving all the tangled mess of children and housedom behind. The timing could be a little better for those I'm leaving behind - my husband's boss was let go this morning, which means that while he's playing Mr.Mom, he'll also be working a zillion hours and covering all bases at work.
And he'll be dealing with the flea situation (that will not go away...seems our cat is the only being in the house not affected) and our broken washing machine (the perfect compliment to a house full of potentially flea ridden blankets and children who occasionally wet their beds.)
Still, he tells me not to worry and to enjoy myself, because he's a good man who doesn't want me to be stressed. But also because he believes that I will accomplish great feats of literary genius while I'm away and will then be able to sell my stories and we will be able to live in the lap of luxury and have the Orkin man come and blast every undesirable thing from our house.
I've long since let go of any notion that I will prosper financially through writing. I may make some spending money here or there, and I may be able to find some sort of teaching gig. But I'm hardly waiting for a windfall of sorts. Still, it's good to have people who have faith in you. Even big you-can-afford-pest-control type faith. It's sweet.