Moving

We're supposed to be moving this weekend. Thabo is in Austria for work. His humourless vulgar fat cat clients are giving his group the run around, so now he has to stay for the weekend. Of course, I'm annoyed, left to sort out the whole move myself (nothing is packed yet). But I'm more fearful of a future where he's consumed by work and I'm the "single" partner. Actually, the present is often like that already. No, I'm fearful that there is going to be no let up and this is how it's always going to be. In which case I wonder, what is the point? I hate London. The whole reason I'm here is for "us." And all too often there is no "us." What does that leave me?