Wishful Thinking

During lunch today, my coworkers were talking about their summer plans. R's husband is attending a sabbatical in Spain this summer, so in addition to residing in Spain for the entire summer, she will be visiting London and perhaps Scotland, where she lived for several years before moving back to the states.

She was telling S that S should consider going abroad for the summer and teaching in London. According to R, you can make mad bank as a substitute teacher, or as our cookies across the pond like to call it, as a "supply" teacher. Supply teachers can make between 125 - 145 GBP/day, which is roughly $175 -$200 U.S. Americano dollars/day. Not too shabby, eh?

Which got me to thinking. I'd just been waxing poetic the previous day about the summer I studied abroad in Paris. And when I checked my Facebook account later in the day, ironically enough, I received a friend request from my old R.A. in the A.U.P French House.

Anyhoodle. How much would I love to do this? The main goal would be to earn more money, which, let's face it -we need BIG time (I'd spent last night crying hysterically after we had our taxes done. Because really? Way to penalize me for 1. being married -yeah, you single bitches get way more money! 2. not having children -like I can fricking control that! 3. not buying my first home 4. and, not having purchased a car last year. Way to FRICKING go). I mean, potentially, you could stand to earn $3500 - $4000/month, minus the flight and meals. Because hopefully, you could find someone to stay with -kinda like The Holiday.

And, hello? The experience? Priceless.

However, unlike R, whose husband travels frequently for his ministry, or S, who is currently single, I've got J. J and three incredibly misbehaving dogs whose reputation preceeds them in terms of finding quality, non-vet caretakers.

Like with all things I really want to do, I was pretty much all gung-ho. I was going to tell J when I called him for one of our daily chats, but those chats are pretty much just touching base -never really heavy stuff, unless of course I have an emotional breakdown and I'm threatening to hurl myself off the ledge, which let's be honest, happens on occasion.

I waited for him to come home from work, and we talked about it on the way to dinner at Friday's. On a side note? Seriously heart the nachos and fried green beans at Friday's*. J was listening really attentively as I was talking, and he even told me that it sounded like a great idea.

Until, of course, I asked him if he would miss me. And he said,

"Um, you're not going. It's a great idea for someone else, though."

Bummer.

I'm still holding onto a tiny glimmer of hope.

*Friday's was evacuated just as we were finishing our meal because there was a fire in the restaurant next door. Thank goodness we had finished our meal, but I was pissed about having to leave before dessert. And we still had fried green beans that we had not consumed. But, not to fear. We had dessert at Coldstone. Yes, yes. Can we say Fatt Butt?