“That was never part of the agreement,” my wife spoke sternly.
I had just suggested that she gets an apartment and stay in it for the next ten years.
We left the house in Zhu Shan and had spent the past five nights crashing in rather expensive guesthouses. Our budget was on the verge of being leveled, the places that we were staying in were a ways from town, I believe we’d eaten the past three meals in a row from Seven Eleven. The girls were not happy, the wife was not happy, and, by extension, I was not happy.
I need to process X amount of work each day. If I miss a day, two days … I get buried. I just spent two weeks filming a doc in South Korea, where I didn’t do any other work. I flew back to the USA then flew back to Asia with my family, loosing multiple work days each way. I had editors, commissioners, and advertisers wondering where the fuck their product was.
And I was catching rats…
“I know you just want to stash us away somewhere, but that was never part of the agreement.”
We had just gone through a rough, busy, sometimes miserable week of travel, and my wife wanted more. She didn’t mention going back to the USA once — it wasn’t even a passing consideration. That wasn’t an option.
I sometimes question if my wife really enjoys traveling, but that’s kind of irrelevant. Like me, she really has no other choice.