What comes around goes around.

Remember when I was trying to balance a new marriage with 4 college courses? Courses that took time to do the work I was capable of, and that were worthy of my time, and the patience and understanding of a spouse who truly cares about his mate, and would want the best for said mate, their lives together, and the fruits that these courses would soon bring said lives. Momentarily after registering for these classes, I would decide that 4 classes was too much, what with working full-time and trying to be a good new wife, and 2 of those classes could wait. So I dropped them, and finished the other two. And may I say, that was some difficult shit. Not because the courses were difficult. They were easy - it was my home life and the handfuls of shit I was dealt on a daily basis that made it hard as hell. But, bygolly, I finished.

Soon after, I was placed on academic probation because one of the classes I dropped was a basic studies course, and upon my next registration, I'd be forced to complete that course before I'd be allowed non-basic studies courses. I decided I'd go back and take 2 more. The daily dose of shit followed - this time, in greater quantities, and soon, I decided it wasn't worth the emotional turmoil.

So I quit.

And I will probably resent my decision and the actual reason I made that decision until I die. However, being that I try to be one that doesn't particularly dwell on upset, I file this away in the "we were newlyweds, and stupid" file, and go on.

Qué será será.

Until recently.

Hubby decided he'd go back to school.

I'll bet that when men do and say things, they don't expect to later be bitten in the ass by their own bullshit. When it happens, oh, it's a sweet and savory thing.

In a "see how it feels?" sort of way.

Only to be rivaled by the first super-sized bite of sesame chicken.