So now that I have a real job again, the tug of my formerly profligate lifestyle beckons anew. After proudly proclaiming our ability to live on just pennies a month, we'll soon find ourselves possessing dollars again. What of our frugality? Are we still going to shop at Fiesta? Are we still going to eat at home?
Yes. And more often than not, yes.
It's hard for me, as a supposedly cosmopolitan gourmet, to admit it, but I haven't missed eating out as much as I thought I would. Long ago I promised Michelle a meal at Feast (Houston's ode to things otherwise considered inedible) to celebrate when I return to the land of the gainfully employed, and I fully intend to deliver on that promise, as soon as this weekend perhaps. But does this mean that I'll also be haunting Gravitas with my former frequency, and indulging in pricey lunches during my work day?
No. And only if it's on the company dime.
These first six months have taught me many lessons, chief among them that what I need for happiness and contentment in marriage has nothing to do with the contents of our bank account or our dinner plates. A loving, supportive wife is a gift of God, not lightly given. I'm rejoicing in the wife of my youth, and her Proverbs 31-esque management of our tiny household. No truffled delicacy could ever compare.
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Job? Hooray! That makes me so happy! And you're so right about your fantastic wife.
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