The Empire State Building is red tonight: it is Valentine’s Day.
I had to work late — everything we have been working on for the past month has to be finished by Friday. But that means I will not reach home till nearly midnight. Man! I am on the bus right now. I feel really really bad about it — I wanted to take her out to dinner. I told her this and promised to take her out next week. She said it does not matter, that she knew I would be late and that next week it will be the same story. Her expectations of me have sunk to an all-time low.
She acts like I work late just to avoid her, like I have a choice in the matter. She thinks I am seeing another woman. As if I had time for that! Much less the money. (But, as I said before, I now see why so many men in my position do just that).
She is very upset at my long hours of being away from her. I have been working very hard the past month — 75 hours a week for the past two weeks and over sixty hours a week before that. These long long hours will likely come to an end this week, but she does not believe it.
Just when I need her support and understanding most is just when I am least likely to get it. Just when things get bad at work is just when she starts giving me a hard time at home.
Last night I made some progress with her — she said more than two words in a row to me. We talked for about an hour or so. A start, of sorts.
On the way to the bus I got some flowers for her — and a dirty magazine for me, in case things do not work out.
We shall see.