When Noreen married Hank it was so exciting. They had a little nest egg put away, and although both had reasonably stable jobs (Noreen was a cook and Hank was a carpenter) they spent hours discussing what they might do together to be self-employed and earn a living.
In the end it boiled down to two options: they could buy a tavern or they could buy a Bed and Breakfast. Noreen was not overly keen on the tavern, mainly because she had never been in a tavern in her entire life, let alone drink alcohol other than a wee wine mixed with a little water. On the other hand, being a cook she could whip up a storm for breakfast. Hank wasn’t too keen on having to make beds all day and sometimes cook, but Noreen assured him that she would cook and make the beds and his job was to maintain the gardens and buildings. What could be better? A Bed and Breakfast it was!
As if it had been made for them, a rural business came up for sale next to fields of wild flowers, next to a lake, next to a mountain. The sellers assured Noreen and Hank that business flourished, especially when hordes of visitors came over the summer. The Bed and Breakfast was purchased.
At the time of taking over, winter was approaching. The tourist season was over. Noreen discovered she was pregnant. Hank put his back out while creating an herb garden. Spring and summer arrived. Wife and husband were incapacitated. They couldn’t afford to hire help. They argued. Noreen lost the baby. They separated. They divorced. They sold the business for next to nothing. Each went their own way. Each have lived a miserable life since.
That’s the way things go when all turns to slush. Hank can’t cook, is grossly overweight, and lives on hamburgers and fish and chips. Noreen is a raging alcoholic and drinks herself silly every night. Let’s hope they don’t die before they find happiness.