Reality time

There's something about working that makes reality just set right in. Which is what is happening to me now. And as you know, I have no idea how I feel about any of it.
Here's the reality as I see it: I live in London now, like it or not. No longer have a well-paying job in the States. (what was I thinking?). Husband got transferred here, to the land of high taxes and really expensive everything, so he no longer has a job in the States either. (what was he thinking?) We signed a lease here until next April. Okay, that settles that pretty much.
One kid still in college and one kid unemployed and flopping at a friend's house (thank you, friend) near where we used to live. Waiting to hear about an unpaid internship in Milan. Will need supporting IF he gets it.
One plus one equals not enough money and I gotta work as much as I can.
Got a week's guarantee of work a month where I'm freelancing. So that's good.
Not enough though.
I wish it could be, just work one week a month and spend lots of the rest of the time in Italy chasing lemons and writing to you.
All premature.
Gotta still pay for lots of stuff, even though Suze Orman would tell you in a heartbeat that one shouldn't, at our age, give your savings to U.S. colleges. Too late for that, Suze.
Do I qualify for a free financial make-over? I've screwed it all up, doesn't that count?
Hardly need it, really. I've watched enough of you to know what you'd say.
Shouldn't have done it. But since you have, now, do these things: Get a job. Move to a cheaper, even smaller, place.
Stop chasing lemons in Italy. Rent that side of a hill full-time to someone. (Used to rent it lots. All dried up with the global recession).
Dump the crappy old car I just bought.
What the hell was I thinking?