My husband’s hobby addiction was draining our finances and my patience. When I finally decided to take a secret vacation with my work bonus, I never expected the chain of events it would set in motion — or how it would change everything.
It started with gourmet cooking. One day, Carter burst into our apartment, eyes shining with excitement.
“Abby, you won’t believe what I found!” he exclaimed, dumping a pile of packages on our coffee table.
I raised an eyebrow. “What’s all this?”
“The key to becoming a master chef!” He started unpacking fancy knives, gadgets I couldn’t name, and jars of spices I’d never heard of.
“How much did this cost?” I asked, trying to keep the worry out of my voice.
Carter waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. It’s an investment in our future gourmet meals!”
I should’ve known then that this was just the beginning.
Weeks passed, and our kitchen turned into a maze of unused equipment. Carter talked endlessly about sous-vide techniques and molecular gastronomy, but he never actually cooked anything.
One evening, as I microwaved another frozen dinner, I couldn’t hold back anymore. “Carter, when are you going to use all this stuff?”
He looked up from his phone, where he was researching the latest cooking trend. “Soon, babe. I’m just perfecting my techniques first.”
I sighed, knowing “soon” probably meant “never.”
Just as the cooking obsession faded, Christmas rolled around. I came home from work to find Carter surrounded by boxes and tubes.
“What’s all this?” I asked, dreading the answer.
“We’re gonna be brewmasters!” Carter announced, holding up a shiny copper contraption.
I felt my stomach sink. “How much did this cost?”
The final straw came when Carter announced his newest hobby — drones. Our living room turned into a chaotic mess of half-assembled gadgets.
One evening, as I navigated through the drone parts scattered across the floor, Carter approached me with a gleam in his eye.
“Abby, I found the perfect drone! It’s top-of-the-line, with amazing features. Can we get it?”
I looked at him incredulously. “Carter, we can’t afford another expensive hobby.”
“But this one’s different,” he insisted. “I’ll really stick with it this time.”
Something inside me snapped. “No, Carter. Enough is enough.”
He nodded, looking more serious than I’d seen him in months. “I realized how selfish I’ve been. I want to talk — really talk — about everything. If you’re willing.”
As we walked to the car, hand in hand, I felt a spark of hope. Maybe this vacation had been exactly what we both needed to find our way back to each other.
The journey ahead wouldn’t be easy, but for the first time in a long while, I was looking forward to the future — hobby-free and full of possibility.
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