Retreat, hell! (...but maybe a little.)

Alright. I'm over it. Are you happy now, deployment? I've finally admitted it: I'm done with you. It was fun for awhile. I could watch whatever I wanted to on television without the exasperated sighs from a bored husband. I could spread out in bed and fidget without disturbing anyone. If I wanted to have popcorn for dinner, there was no one around to demand "real food". I didn't even mind the nights where the house was totally quiet and I could read to my heart's content. But now? DONE. I'm done with the frozen chicken nuggets for dinner because I don't feel like making a big meal just for myself. I'm done with the big, empty bed that never seems comfortable. I'm done with handling all the paperwork, bills, taxes, housing issues that I plead total ignorance on because I never had to deal with them before. (Did I almost just cry on the phone with the IRS agent because I'm so over dealing with things I don't understand and every word coming out of his mouth sounded like one of Charlie Brown's teachers? Quite possibly.) I'm even done with the quiet house with no one to talk to, except for my kitty who never stops meowing. And let's face it, I don't speak cat as well as he thinks I do.

I just want my husband to come home. I'm bored. I'm lonely. I'm tired of the same old thing day after day. Yes, I have friends. Yes, I leave the house for more than just work. Yes, I have a pretty full life without my husband. It's just not the same kind of life. There are days when I think about how much more fun I could be having if he were around. I hate coming home after a bad day at work and having no one to talk to about it. Sometimes I just need a hug from my husband. (Hence, the compulsion to hug every Marine on base.) And a kiss would be nice, too. (But definitely not one from the Marines on base.) Not to mention, can I be a totally spoiled (and maybe a smidge obnoxious) girl for just a second? (...Thank you.) I'm tired of buying my own dinner. And paying for my own movie ticket. And buying every.single.thing this life requires in order to have a good time living it. (You know, important stuff, like clothes and shoes and ice cream).

I'm not beaten by any means, but I'm definitely out of the fight. The first (almost) nine months were just fine and I was living life as it came on a day to day basis. It was truly a worthwhile lesson in realizing my own strengths and abilities. (Which are pretty damn good, if I do say so myself.) But these remaining three months? Over yesterday, if I had my druthers. (Weird word, but I like it so it stays.)

Faster, faster, faster!