Casualty of Job

The following post is just to catch you all up on my story, so you’re not left wondering what the hell I’m talking about in my future posts.

My previous job, as an engineer in a corn ethanol facility, was filled with danger.  There’s the inherent dangers of any industrial environment, like big heavy things falling on you, getting limbs torn off by unstoppable spinning drive shafts on the enormous pumps that push the monstrous amount of liquid around the plant.  There are also unique dangers in the ethanol fermentation industry, like suffocation in an anoxic environment like the fermentation tanks, or any kind of spark or open flame in the distillation building.  People can get hurt or killed, and one even did get killed a couple of months ago in the very department I used to work in.  It was horrible and preventable (in my opinion), and I hope I don’t seem crass or uncaring for saying that I’m glad I wasn’t there for it.  I feel really horrible for saying that, and it breaks my heart to see what my former co-workers are going through, but those are my honest feelings.

Another thing about my old job is that it was in a city 120 miles away from where my wife works.  We were both unable to change locations for reasons I won’t get into.  We tolerated that situation, because her job was temporary, and we’d live together once her job was finished.  So for four years, I lived away from my wife.  I was a married bachelor.  I’d see her once or twice a month, but our relationship wasn’t fully realized.  Our relationship was a casualty of our jobs.  Again, we both accepted this as temporary.  We’d lived together for many years before we were married, so we knew we could live together again.  Still, it sucked.

But I’ve alluded to all of the above as my ‘previous job’.  Turns out my job was even more temporary than hers.  I was free, and we finally moved in together.  It was a huge relief, and I even spent some time without a job at all, just being a househusband.  That doesn’t pay very well, so I got a job at a gas station.  My wife only has about a year left on her job, so I’ll just do this to get by until we move elsewhere.

Funny thing is, my hours at the gas station are pretty much all evenings and weekends, so I really don’t get to see my wife that much anymore again.  At least all our stuff is under the same roof now.  Does that count?  How silly is it to have work rule your life so much?  Isn’t work supposed to enable life, and not the other way around?