Seriously, moving sucks.
You never truly realize just how much crap you have until you move.
"OOOH! I've been looking for this!" (Dude, you haven't missed it in a year, chances are you're not going to miss it now.)
Bry had this week off, so he was going to move us. It's the end of the month, which around my office is nothing short of bedlam, so I couldn't take any time off.
I picked up Pooker and drove to the new house. There's crap everywhere. Not like, the kitchen stuff is in the kitchen, bedroom stuff in the bedrooms...Nope. It's all in one big pile in the living room. Which wasn't that big of a deal. I was told to keep Pook entertained while he made a final run to get some other stuff.
Problem number one: Pook only slept for an hour yesterday, so she lived up to the moniker Princess Pissy Pants. She didn't want to be in her bouncy, but I couldn't let her crawl around with all the crap on the floor. She wanted a bottle, for all of three seconds.
I tried just putting her in the bouncy while I tried to unpack at least the wall décor, because that's my forté. (I can decorate like nobodies business.) That went well until I realized I had no nails to hang aforementioned décor.
Out came the Crackberry, and hellooo mobile web! So, Pook and I nestled in on the couch while I got her to sleep.
Of course, Joe was helping Bry and he just had to make snide comments. Dude, get the hell over it. You're in your midthirties. God forbid you have your own place, and your own car. (For the record, he's moving into a family members basement. Still no car.)
The main reason I was sold on the house was the incredible master bathroom. A shower stall! Side by side sinks! Marble countertops! And, the coup de grace, a HUGE marble sunken tub with armrests!
I had planned on taking a nice, long, hot bath to relax before I went to bed. An initiation of the house, if you will. The tub, apparently, won't.
For one, the water pressure from the faucet is a joke. I for one, am not about to wait 30 minutes while this thing fills up. Turns out, I didn't have to worry. Because it won't fill up. The house has a 50 gallon tank. The tub fills up about 25%. Damn. There goes that idea.
It was then that I discovered problem numer two. Um, Bryan, did you grab the towels and the bath mats? Yeah, okay, can you grab me a mat and a towel? I know I should've grabbed them before, but I didn't so how about helping me out? Or I can just stand here dripping water onto the floor and I'll go to bed dripping wet and roll around so you have to sleep in the wetness, too. That's what I thought, thanks for the towel.
Getting dressed this morning was also fun! I got a hot shower, (for about five minutes). And then I remembered all my clothes, my socks, my underwear, everything was either in boxes or bags. So I spent about 30 minutes ripping into stuff, until I finally found Granny Panties, sweat socks, and something semi-decent to wear to work. Have no idea where my blow dryer ran off to, probably ran to Mexico with my slut of a curling iron.
But! I saw a spider! I didn't scream! (Much.) So, it's not all bad, right?
I...I just don't know. I don't know if I'm going to be with Bry much longer.
Without airing our dirty laundry to the entire web, there's two main reasons: getting married isn't that important and he doesn't want more kids.
Nothing wrong with that except...You guessed it. Getting married is important to me, and so is having at least 1-2 more kids.
I can understand where he's coming from, I do. His first marriage was brutal, he doesn't want that again. He's got three kids, four is too many. He's simply done.
I can't drag him kicking and screaming to the altar, proclaiming "You're going to sperminate me OR ELSE!"
We've had some pretty nasty fights over this. We love each other, but love doesn't conquer all. Not with issues like this.
I told him I have a LOT to think about, and that by no means was this conversation over. We haven't spoken about it since. But there's an underlying current of tension. I can practically see the questions running in his brain: Will she or wont' she?
To be honest, I don't know if I will or won't [stay].
Dear Mother Nature,
We need to have a bit of a chat, you and I. What I’m about to say it out of love, I promise. I love your lakes, your rivers, your oceans. I love the sun shining on my face and smelling the newly sprouted flowers, and hearing the birds chirp happily to each other. I need that. I also need you to get on some Prozac or Zoloft. Or something.
It seems you’ve become ever-so-slightly bipolar. Now, there’s nothing wrong with having a disease, except when it affects your family. And, dang it, I’m family. So let’s chat, shall we?
First of all, it’s spring. Okay, so normally that brings about warmer weather, right? Right. For a few glorious days we had sunshine, and temperatures in the fifties. I was even so bold as to wear open-toed shoes, short sleeves, and eschew my coat. I turned my face to your benevolent warmth, and listened rapturously at the birds.
Then, apparently, that whole ‘bipolar’ BS kicked in. It’s snowing outside. I thought winter was over, banished for another year! So, out again comes the turtleneck, which let’s be honest here…They’re not the most attractive thing on a woman. Out comes my hated coat, which I had triumphantly put in the closet.
So, beloved Mother Nature, I need you to make a choice: either it’s still winter or it’s spring. Now, since I’m your daughter, I think I should have a say in this. I mean, it’s a major decision, right? So, I vote that it’s officially spring now. That being said, if you could be, well, sunny, and give me the warmth I so desperately need, I’d appreciate that.
I love you dearly, Mother.
Sincerely,
Your Daughter.
I feel pretty, oh so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and briiiight! (I’ll bet only 10% of you know which classic musical that’s from.) Anyway, it’s only been recently that I’ve felt that way.
Before I was pregnant, I made an effort to look pretty all the time. I tried to dress nicely, smell good, and just look overall nice. But after becoming a Mom, it seemed like what was the point? It’d just get messed up anyway, and who the hell cares? I mean the reps I think did, since they noticed when I didn’t dress up.
And since I rarely get told, “You look nice today” I figured why freaking bother. I’d wake up early, shave my legs, curl my hair, do my makeup all purdy, and put on a skirt and….Nothing. Yeah, okay then. So it looks like I’m retiring the razor, eschewing my makeup, yada yada yada.
But recently, within the last two weeks or so, it’s changed. I don’t want to be one of those moms in sweats, no makeup, and hair in an unwashed ponytail. I want to look pretty, I want to be pretty. I want people to stop and say, “Hey, you look good today, by the way. Now about those docs I faxed over….”
And I think I’ve done that. People are noticing. What’s more, I feel happier. I feel happy knowing, not just thinking, I look good. The reps have commented that I look nice again. I smile more, and people are smiling back. I’m in a better mood. People at work are saying I’m more pleasant to deal with. (WHAT DO YOU MEAN I’M NOT EFFING PLEASANT TO DEAL WITH?! I’M THE MOST PLEASANT PERSON I KNOW!)
So I think I’ll try and keep this up. It’s nice to be noticed for something other than your surly demeanor. Though, that demeanor has served me well. I think I’ll do the whole Polgara thing with this. (If you don’t know who I’m talking about, get the hell out of here. Seriously. Or just Google it.) Besides, I’m the Old Wolf’s daughter, isn’t it appropriate?
For the last three days, I’ve played personal ass to my Sales Manager, Gerald.
Apparently, Sunday night his wife washed his pants and his Bluetooth was in the pocket. He asked if I would go get him a new one. Sure, not a problem. I didn’t know then that jinxed myself.
I went to one store, they’re not an official store so they couldn’t. So I ran to the mall. They can do it, but a manager has to get into that system, and he won’t be back until 1500. That won’t work, I’ve got to get back.
So I go on Tuesday, and go to the mall. Yay, the manager is on duty! Wait, what do you mean you can’t do it? No, the account holder isn’t here, I know that. He’s listed as being where? Connecticut? Well, what do you want me to do, fly him here? Yeah, sure, I’ll put it on my card.
I tell Gerald and he thanked me, asked me to sync it up to his phone. I said fine, holding the receipt. “Was there something else?” “Um, yeah, I had to put this on my card since I couldn’t charge it to the account.” “So you want me to pay you back?” WTF?! Uh, yeah, I kinda do! “Oh, well, just expense it for me then.” No, I don’t want to wait six weeks. You’ll pay me back by the end of the week.
But, alas, my quest wasn’t over. No, he didn’t like the earpiece. And in the wind the sound quality sucked. No shit, moron. Every headset sucks in the wind. I’m sorry, what? NO, I’m not going to trade with you! Le sigh. Yes, fine, I’ll get you a new one. But you’re giving me your corporate Amex. (Brave man, by the way. Giving me a credit card & telling me not to shop is liking setting a mirror full of cocaine in front of an addict and telling him not to snort.)
So, I return his Bluetooth and head over to WallyWorld, where it’s cheaper. I find out I can’t put it on his card because he’s not here and how do I know you’re not attempting identity theft, ma’am? You. Are. Not. Serious. Look, moron, I’m wearing a Bluetooth, see? Why would I buy another one? And seriously, if I was going to steal my bosses Amex don’t you think I’d do a bit more damage than a $60 Bluetooth at Wal-Mart?! I’d be in Nordstrom, stocking up for a new spring wardrobe. Yeah, fine, I’ll put it on my card.
But he doesn’t like that one, either. It takes two hands to put on, and it takes longer. Oh, no, the horror! Are you freaking kidding me?! It takes half a second longer! Get some patience! “I look like a girl with the sparkly silver stuff on it.” Dude, it’s an etched design, it’s not as if it’s covered in pink glitter. NO, I’m not going to return THAT one. Try it for a day, at least. What’s that, Gerald? Sigh, yeah, if you don’t like it you can have mine. Grrr. But you still owe me.
Here's some random snippets of conversations of late:
"I hate dealing with OFSI"
"Heidi, you shouldn't hate you should love freely"
"I love quite freely, thank you"
*crickets*
"No, Ce'Nedra, don't do it!"
"Uh, Heidi?"
"Ce'Nedrea, dammit, quit that!"
"HEIDI! Who are you talking to??"
"Sorry, I was caught up in my book. My bad."
"He told me you slept together."
"Really? When was that, Delana?"
"Last Monday, you rented a hotel room."
"Funny, since the three of us were all together last Monday. Was it a threesome?"
*click*
"I swear to God I'll fly to Quantico and kick his ass"
"Heidi, the guy who signed my orders is guarded with 4-5 ex Special Forces."
"What's your point?"
"If you can shoot better than they can I'll be impressed."
"I'm not going to shoot them, I'm just going to throw the biggest snit the world has ever seen."
I got some bad new yesterday, as a few of you already know. Gaki, who was supposed to be getting out in July….Isn’t. He stole a few minutes from training to call me yesterday and told me he just received his temporary additional duty orders. He explained that it means he’s not being stop-lossed, and he’s not getting a forced extension but he has to stay with his unit. And since his unit is going to Afghanistan in July….Yep, he goes with them. Those orders can change at any time, though the chances are slim to none. Unless they get enough new Marines to make up for the ones whose enlistment is ending, he’s going.
What I’m about to say will probably anger and frustrate some of you, and frankly, at this point, I could care less. I have loved Gaki for nine years, and I will continue to love him. He’s been everything I could ask for in a friend, and despite the mistakes he’s made, I still love him. We just seem to get each other, on some innate level. I don’t know how else to explain it. It was described by a mutual friend of ours like “Yin and Yang.” And that seems a pretty apt way to describe the two of us. Some of you fervently wish I would just stop talking to him altogether, and to those of you I say: This is my life, and I will make decisions you will not like. What I need is for you to please just support me. I need you now very, very much.
I spent a good hour silently crying after he called me. Who knew a one minute phone call could wreak so much havoc? Pettishly, and stupidly I kept thinking to myself, “No, he can’t go because I don’t want him to.” as if that would change anything. As if there aren’t millions of families out there who aren’t thinking the exact same thing. For a brief moment, I railed against God. How dare He? I prayed against this, and yet it happened! But, as Gaki told me, “This isn’t His fault. It’s in His plan, Heidi. I survived Iraq, I can survive Afghanistan. God isn’t finished with me yet, so dry your tears.” I tired to stop crying, I really did. After all, I am at work. But dammit, I’m so angry! I’m terrified that he’ll come back in a box. How could the USMC do this? He’s supposed to be getting out, not going back in!
To any of you who pray, I don’t care what God you pray to. But I ask that you pray for peace to come to my troubled soul right now, that they get enough Marines, or if they don’t, that Gaki comes back alive. To those of you who may think I’m being a foolish, silly little girl that needs to get over it, I ask you to leave me the hell alone. I can’t handle you right now.
Dear God,
I know we haven't talked to You in a while. There's a multitude of reasons why, as You well know. But as I know You know, I still love You. And I still need You.
For about a month now, I've been praying fervently for deliverance. Deliverance from this hell-hole we've been living in. We've been searching high and low for a place that has the room we need, in a neighborhood that's safer, in a price range we can afford.
When we looked at the new place, it was perfect. It was just the right size, it a great neighborhood, and it was even cheaper than the rent we're paying now. My prayers increased in their urgency, and I asked my family to pray as well.
Now I find out that we got the place! And my prayers have answered! I cannot You enough, God. This place is so perfect, and the deposit won't cripple us financially. Dare I say we'd have enough left over to decorate the bathroom, the kids rooms, and get a patio set??
Thank you, Lord, for this blessing.
Love,
Heidi
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