I was in the middle of trying to organize the garage—and that is NOT going well, by the way—when it hit me.
Tom was coming home.
Tom was coming home next week.
TOM WAS COMING HOME NEXT WEEK!
Let me back up.
Remember when I wrote this post? Writing about how I hoped the Air Force would let us move next month so the kids wouldn’t miss school?
Well. The Air Force listened. They gave Tom his orders to Oklahoma.
Tom told me this on my Facebook page at first. When I wake up, he’s usually going to bed, you see. He said something like, “I have exciting news.”
And then he left me an inappropriate wall post quoting the song about doing it like they do on the Discovery Channel.
I was like, “Um, okay? Does that mean you got your orders?”
He KNOWS how impatient I am. He should have left me a message saying, “Hey, I got my orders.” Instead I had to wait for hours until he got on. He thinks it’s funny to torture me.
When he got on, he said that yes, he got his orders.
Our next step is hoping the military will move us. Our goal is to be in Oklahoma the week of June 13th.
Anyway, as soon as I found that out, I went into panic mode and surveyed all our stuff. How would the movers pack it all? What if they broke something? What if they STOLE something?
I was so busy worrying that I didn’t really focus that Tom would be home.
After nine months, my husband would be HOME.
And yes, he does have to go back to Korea on June 20th. Then he’s home for good in August.
“I have to shave!” I suddenly yelled in the garage. To no one. I ought to pull out my sexier underwear since I don’t think Tom fully appreciates my cotton ones. I have to...
...share the remote again.
...share my bed again.
I love having the bed to myself. Now I’m going to have to share it with a man. Who snores. And farts. And makes other weird noises.
What would I wear when Tom came home? A dress? Jeans? When Tom came home for Qatar (he was there for six months) I just had on jeans. Would that be okay in this situation?
What if he thought it was funny to wake me up early in the morning since his body clock was all messed up? Maybe he forgot how mean I am when I’m disturbed early in the morning. I wouldn’t want to snap at him—after all, he had been gone for nine months—but sometimes my body just goes on auto pilot and the second I’m woken up, I immediately start to curse.
Tom would be home.
He’d be home to start a new chapter in our lives. The one where we move to Oklahoma.
Did I mention that we don’t travel well together? If we ever went on The Amazing Race, most of our conversation that we’d have back and forth would be bleeped out because of all the cursing that would be done.
This is going to be interesting…