Snooze Button

For the past three weeks Himself has been "working" nights. I use the term loosely, because what he is really doing is working 3 12-hour shifts a week at one of the big hospitals in Northern Virginia for free. Even my internships paid me SOMETHING. But - alas, even with critical nursing shortages, nursing students in their final clinical rotation are free labor.

What matters most is the destruction of the idealism we had when he started on the night shift in the ICU.

"This will be great!" We said. "It will mean:..."

"We only have to use one car (my last fill-up cost me $37 for a car that has relatively good gas mileage!)!" This, by the way is true ONLY when he works daily, back-to-back, as otherwise our schedules overlap (I leave around 8 a.m., he gets home around 8 :45 a.m.; He leaves at 5:45 p.m., I get home around 6:15).

"I'll get the bed to myself!" (This was fine while I was sick, in pain, and couldn't handle Himself's constant wiggling - even in sleep. Now, I can hardly sleep. The bed is too big, the room is too dark, and even though I'm rappidly approaching 30, there is still a monster in my closet).

"Himself could do this when he starts full-time employment, and it would mean more money, more flexibility when we have kids, and we could pay off our debt faster." (Except, we neglected to realize that, in order to stay awake all night, Himself must sleep all day - every day, even when he's not working).

The worst part however, is the mornings he isn't working. About half an hour before my alarm goes off, Himself decides to come to bed. He spends a half hour tossing and turning and "getting comfortable," and I spend half hour wondering if he would have died by staying up 30 more minutes. Then, as I struggle to pull myself out of bed, Himself inveriably gives a little contented sigh and snuggles up with my pillow.

I'm starting to become a snooze button addict.