Probation has started. Maybe not officially, but it has started. He brought home the list of rules of things we can, or more specifically, can't do.
I feel like I am on some sort of punishment. "Sorry, April. The beginnings of relaxation you were feeling? Yeah, don't get too excited. You will be paying your PO for the next 18 months of your life. How much? The amount is unknown. And the supposed 'free' vacation you were taking to Florida in August - you can stop looking forward to it. All the fun things you were planning because he has a job will have to be some other time.
"Sorry, April. Because you married a crack addict, you might have to drive him to work every day due to having his license taken away. Also, because you married a crack addict, if you are having those killer cramps you get where you are incapacitated for hours on end, you cannot send him to the store with the credit card because his PO has to okay that first. And when you are driven to drink because of this inane lunacy, you can't do that either.
"We will check in on you. Your living conditions, what you live with, any alcohol. Have fun with that."
18 months without a fricken drink in my own home? That's a little excessive, don't you think? His problem wasn't alcohol. But hey. That's what I pay. That's the dues I take, grudgingly, to be with the man I love.