Mandatory Unpaid Vacation

Here we are again. It's been two years since Josh last worked. No wait. Hold on. That's not right. Two months. Months, Jessica. Months. It just feels like two years. Now I can't really say it's been two months in truth. He does still have a job. He's officially "employed". Of course I'm using that word in the loosest form possible and also because I'm not sure what other word I can use that would be more accurate. Purgatory, perhaps? No...that's not right either. That being said, the maximum number of hours he is privileged to work each week has been right around 16 hours at it's best. Last week was significantly worse. It figures. We did the worst possible thing we can do when things start looking up at his job. We looked for a house. You see, Irony likes to follow me around with a giant club and beat me on the head quite frequently. One day Irony and I will be good buddies simply because of the sheer time we've spent so close to one another.

We need to move. I know some people say that and don't really need to move. But you don't understand. We really, really, need to move. The walls are closing in now. That tiny office sized bedroom that Alex and Abby share is not equipped for three twin beds. Not to mention that one of those kids is a boy who, at this rate, will be sharing his bedroom with two girls. This can't end well. Puberty called from the future and told me so. So, right as we went to look at our perfect house, Josh began his mandatory unpaid vacation with apparently no end in sight. (Just FYI: It's not really called vacation if you'll see past my never ending sarcasm.) If he takes a complete layoff, there are 100 journeymen on the bench at the union hall and that makes him numero 101 in line to get a job. And some of those poor souls have been on the bench for over two years. Unemployed for two years! I'm scared. So Josh opted to stay at his current job (the one with the boss/owner who will retire in September) (Oh, and also the same job where Josh is the only employee besides the boss/owner). He's taking what he can get and let me tell ya, it ain't much. The good news is, we haven't killed each other yet. 'Yet' being the operative word. The bad news is, it's become apparent to me that we can no longer call this way of life a "phase". Phases don't last for four years and continue to get worse. Having hard times is officially simply our way of life. We are trying to climb our way out of the poop pit and it's just not working very well. One step forward, two steps back.

On a fun note, Josh has also decided to let his beard grow perhaps until the next big job comes along. We figure he'll be a stunt double for ZZ Top before that happens. If mice start nesting in it, it'll have to go. Just sayin'. It also looks like we'll be matchbox living for the rest of our lives. Now if you'll excuse me. I need to go put a want ad up on Craigslist for a triple bunk bed...or possibly a straight jacket. I'm gonna need one or the other (possibly both) soon.