PCSing isn't exactly a dream. It, kind of, sucks big, hairy toe and I wish it would just quit. But, it won't, so I'll write about it. Here comes a crap-ton of cathartic writing, peeps...
I have been, and always will be, the anti-procrastinator. I don't have things on my plate that get left there. I don't ignore the cleaning, or the dishwasher, or the laundry, or the errand-running (as much as I'd like to sometimes). I get my shit done so I never have to think about it again. I don't like that cloud that looms over you when you lay your head down at night thinking of the stuff you put off today that needs to be fit into tomorrow. Ain't my thang.
And, not because I'm better or worse than anyone (I definitely don't have a fat-head about myself), it's because I've always expected much of myself. I hesitate to use the term perfectionist because that brings with it a context of stress that I don't think applies. I just want to knock stuff out in such a way that it doesn't need to be baggage I strap to my ankle (see what I did there? Totally gave you a ball and chain written-illustration. Hello, bucket list.). I prefer to avoid stress at all costs. Ironically, that probably sounds stressful, but I'm sure someone out there in my e-world gets it!
Everyone that we've had to work with for this PCSing deal does two things that are just the bees' knees: (1) They give directions in such a way [read: like we're PCSing extraordinaires] that is so devoid of detail I swear to Lady Gaga that they make a game out of how little they can say to their victims (2) They speak in code. It's like, "hey, you need form 9870KG taken to building 83bravo. Stand on your right leg, recite the alphabet backwards, and that's how many miles it'll take you to get to Colorado."
My to-do list can be a mile and a half long, I don't mind that; what I mind is NOT KNOWING what is on my to-do list. And, people? We're moving in less than a month. To a place that is 18 hours away. Where the only way we can get out of this Bermuda Triangle of an Army post is to complete things, which need to be done in succession, that don't really have a starting point right now. Oh yes...it's the dream.
We got some answers the other day that, unbelievably, improved my day. Ya see, kids, all I want are answers. To-do list? Load it up. Just tell me what needs to be on it and I'll rock your face off with my super-human anti-procrastinating powers.
So, even though the Army almost gave me a stroke at the ripe ol' age of 26 maybe it's not so bad? I wrote a post not long ago that my problems entailed capturing pictures of Jake instead of staring at his awesomeness, whether or not to get dressed that day, whether or not we should eat out, etc. I call these my "problems" because, to me, problems are not having a roof over your head, having an incurable disease, not knowing from where your next meal would come. These are all things (except for maybe the disease thing...) for which the Army provides rectification. So, it presents a real quandary when this biatch [the Army's a chick in this scenario for all intents and purposes] is confusing the life right outta me, yet enables me to stay home with my boy, pick up ingredients for pretty tasty dinners, and gives me a place to rest the noggin at night.
But, ya know what? This is my cathartic post so I'm allowed to say that the Army is still a biatch sometimes.
And, for now, the kitten is safe.
But, we will overcome.
WE. ARE. LAMAYS.