Paul's snoring. He'll never admit it, but it's happening.
He came home early from his VERY LAST FIELD OP EVER to fly out to a site interview in Baltimore tomorrow. Given that he's getting up at 2:45am to catch his flight, I'm using the term "tomorrow" loosely. He'll be back home a little after midnight tomorrow night, and will turn around and hang out with Bree and Katie for ten hours while I take Carly and two of her friends to a Girl Scout adventure in Raleigh. Raleigh is three hours away, so we're leaving at 6am.
The next week, he has two phone pre-interviews, then the week after Easter, he has this intense five-day career conference, after which he's planning a pit stop in Philadelphia to meet with the Travis Manion Foundation (we lost Travis in Iraq in 2006) where he is considering working.
Meanwhile his LinkedIn account is on fire, and he's on the phone and email every single day, reaching out, making connections, getting information....
And, y'all. There is nothing I can do to help. Correction: I got his suit dry-cleaned.
I told him last night I think I'm getting a tiny glimpse of what it must have been like for him when the girls were born. He could offer ice chips and encouragement, but the real work was mine to do. This is just like that - well, I mean, not just like that, he's (hopefully!) not going to have intense pain or lose mobility in his legs, but you understand what I mean. It's hard being sidelined due to necessity.
And now for something completely different. Carly went on a field trip to the wildlife rescue center today and her souvenir was a little clear plastic ziploc bag of owl barf. I mean, okay, it's the dried pellets with rodent bones in it, not actual barf. But still! Ew!