Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Monday April 16 Primo decides to run for office

Primo has decided to run for public office. The state house.

Oh boy.

You guys know that he and I are in a mixed marriage, right? He is of the Polka Dot Party and I am of the Stripe Party, as much as that side represents my views. I pick and choose a little bit from each side and a lot from the Just Legalize Everything and Leave Me Alone people.

But it's not the difference in our views that has me worried. That's not what's going to make this difficult. He's my husband. I love him. I'll support him. It's not as if he's a neo-Nazi or a Stalinist. He's just on the Other Side. Whatever. People have different opinions and I can live with that. Really. I can. I have friends all over the place. As long as people leave me alone, I don't care. As long as they leave other people alone, I don't care. Be nice to other people, don't hurt them, don't bother them about what they do in their own houses as long as they are over 18, and let's just leave it at that, shall we?

No, what I'm concerned about is the fact that this campaign is going to consume every single waking minute of Primo's life for the next six months. And probably every single waking minute of my life for the next six months.

Which means that the cat carrier will not be repaired as he promised. That the two-foot high stack of magazines in the guest room will not be sorted and discarded, although why it's necessary for us to have the 2010 issues of Car and Driver, I do not know. That I will have to drag the big plastic tube out of the garage and out to the back of the yard to put it on the downspout so my backyard neighbor doesn't get water gushing from our gutter into his garage. Which I don't mind doing, but Primo gets very picky about how these things are done - there is a real science to attaching big plastic tubes to downspouts, you know.

It means that Primo and I will not be playing tennis. Or taking walks. We won't be going to church festivals. Well, we might, but it will be to campaign, not to have fun. We won't be watching Friday Night Lights. We won't be walking to the farmers market on Saturday mornings. We won't be spending the weekends at the lake with our friends. We won't be going to concerts at the gazebo.

We're not going to have any fun.

And that's just the campaign. If he wins, he'll take a pay cut of $A LOT. Many legislators keep their day jobs once they are elected, but Primo doesn't have that kind of job. He's an engineer. He has a 70 hour a week, travel at the drop of a hat job. His employer would not be understanding or flexible.

We'll have a lot less money. Enough to survive, but not enough to re-roof the house. Or take a nice vacation. Or save for retirement Yeah, I'm superficial. That stuff bothers me.

Which means I need to get a job. Which I really, truly would not mind doing. Except nobody seems interested in hiring me.

If he wins, he has the job for only two years. Then he has to run again. If he doesn't win, then what? It would be very difficult for him to return to his profession. Things change too quickly. He's already falling behind. In two years? His knowledge will really be obsolete.

This is going to be lots of fun.


  1. Wow - what a life changer. It takes a lot of support and stamina to make that kind of commitment. Your concerns dont seem superficial to me, but am sure you will work them out.

    Hope having the job you have now will help you get a better one. Good luck.

  2. I'm sorry. This sounds miserable.

    Did he decide this unilaterally even though it affects you both so much?

    1. No. If I had said I didn't want him to do it, he wouldn't have done it. I decided that it was only fair for him to get to do something he really wanted to try after so many years of taking care of other people.