Why divorce laws "favor" the wife. Red-pills won't trouble themselves to comprehend,

it's the wife who's career path gets sidetracked for the progress of her husband's.   Just two or three years after Stephanie returned to full-time work - because she and Robert's kids had reached school-age - Steph's future with the insurance company was looking up; they liked her, because she did a good job.  Well, Rob's employer liked his work also; so they promoted him. 

Downside is: the position is like three states away.  While Rob can work from home, he can't always work from home.  So, the family pulls up stakes.  It's not like Steph will have much trouble finding another job, but being the new kid on the block.  Yep, here we go again.

Before their two kids were born, the couple had relocated from one county to another, because Rob had decided to change to a better job.  The little office, where Steph had worked as a receptionist, were sorry to see her go; she was sorry too.  Not so much of restarting at less pay - still young, she had time - but a new job meant being around strangers.  But moving a county or two over, verses to what might as well be a foreign country...

Bruh, barely November, and already, wind and rain, a half degree from sleet.  The family had arrived in early October; their two children were moving on with things; the eldest had, a few evenings ago, gone to a sporting event with two classmates.   Their younger?   That would take some time.  Steph barely had suppressed a laugh, at the younger's comment.

"Mom, they all look like sherman tanks, and sound like honking horns!" 

Just then, while Steps was filing some documents, Bernice rounded the corner, nearly colliding into Steph - and just keeping on going, as if nobody was around those set of cabinets.  Yikes, that woman had to have weighed the best end of 300 pounds - and most of that, muscle; within the woman's workspace were hockey pictures, galore; she must have birthed most an entire team.  

Bernice was the alpha female; her sidekick, shirley, was a petite 200 some pounds, of similar brawn.  Steph, just kept her nose to the grindstone, and kept her distance.  She valued her job; though she earned not even half of what her husband provided, still, forty-some k, did enable extra funds for things like paying ahead their mortgage, an extra cd or bond toward their kids' college and toward the couple's old age.  And, in the real world, for most people, working for someone else, paid better.  

Rob was for real; it was his idea, and his pocket, that paid for someone to come in and clean twice weekly; thus freeing up time for Steph to be a wife, a mother, and be herself.  Steph had gone to college to study dress design, and through this so-called worthless degree, she had made her own wedding dress - basic and twenty-some yards beautiful.  Their church ceremony had been just family, a few close friends - bell and whistle free; the couple wanted their money to go for things, like cash-paid furniture, an emergency - or oopps - fund.  

While Steph was skilled at making dresses - and they were top-notch, turn 'em inside out, and ya get the picture.  Thing is: customer base.  Number One:  good luck with countering the yoga-pants climate, and number two: per the real materials, and the time that goes into lined garments, people squawked at $80, for garments worth more like $300-400.   Still, she made slips and dresses for herself - good way to keep the skill up, and besides, the clothing stores were a sick, a sad, joke.

"Puah, they were lame in your gramma's day."  Steph's boomer mom would cackle.

Ten o'clock breaktime couldn't come soon enough, though still being the new kid on the block, she - for some reason, she didn't quite understand - had to wait until 10:30.  When half past finally arrived, she entered the breakroom to make herself a cup of hot tea.  The holidays, being but a few weeks away, still, the table had upon it, what looked like the remaining third to half of a b-day sheetcake, from gowen-bla-bla-meister's bakery, a plate of assorted homemade cookies, part of a bag of hard pretzels, and a sizable sliced cheese and sausage platter - what was with all the animal products, anyway.   While the new kid, Steph had been on-board long enough to realize, whatever the calendar day, wasn't relevant; there was always a mini buffet - sans any fruit and veggies, she didn't bring in.

"A large meatball, two philly cheesesteaks, and a large ham boli." A voice from a nearby cube called in an order.  Gad zooks! steph shook her head.

Then did a double take, at what was going on outside.  Her jaw dropped alittle as she stepped toward the window.  "My stars!"  Her words poured out a soft moan.

"What?"

A voice behind her queried, while pudgy, but sturdy hands began loading a plate.  The voice sounded like the same person who had just called in an order that would be delivered within an hour and a half.

"Ba-but, it's ... it's too early...for this."

Outside the snow had already covered the thin layer of ice and rain.  In the distance, whitish gray clouds assembled - more like ganged up, along the mountains, as if waiting for the right moment to start the rumble.  

The woman, with plateful in hand, guffled, then said something like "HA! waid'elwintercomes."  She guffled again, and waddled away.

Steph continued, for a moment, staring out the window.  Somehow she knew, there'd be no early dismissal.  Probe status wouldn't end till late spring, so asking to take leave, well that wouldn't leave a good impression.  So dark and dingy outside; by five o'clock, some fifteen miles of even more so.