I'm the Mayor

I am the mayor of Crazy Town.

The husband is coming home at some point in the very near to kinda near-ish range.

Coincidentally, I've become a whole bag of nut job.

I think every military spouse goes through a lot of emotional hoops when the deployed spouse returns: the nervousness about hair, skin, nails, weight, how we'll act with one another, if he'll still be attracted to me, blah blah blah. I don't know about anyone else, but I also have a thing about wanting to have a "nest" set and ready to go for him when he arrives home. I don't know if it's a woman thing or what, but I have this drive from somewhere deep down (my ovaries?) that just makes it imperative that there is some kind of home in which I can care for my little family.

Issue: I will be heading out to Oklahoma in a week and there's a possibility that the apartment may not be secured before I can get there in person. I really need to decorate the hell out of something and if I don't buy curtains soon I'm worried about what I'll do. Options played out in my mind so far: a) tattoo b) Avril Lavigne-esque eye makeup for my everyday look, or c) causing a traffic accident. (Welcome to Crazy Town! As Mayor, I'm proud to welcome you to our rapidly expanding little city!)

I'm also leaving my job and once you've put in your two weeks, you really drag your feet, ya know? I mean, I will absolutely miss my kids and co-workers but I've already started to check out. I'm worried about finding a job back in Oklahoma because last I heard, there was a major hiring freeze. Not. Awesome.

On the  plus side, my brother is coming home from training tomorrow and so I'll get to see him for a week before I head out. He's going to be deploying a little later this year so it's possible this is the last time I see him before he heads out.

There are a million other things going on right now (when it rains, it pours!) and I know it's affecting J and I. We have been fighting a lot lately. Some of it is legit stuff. Some of it is just plain freaking out stress, which I didn't totally get until this afternoon. J and I got into a massive argument. In a fight, I never say anything that I don't mean- instead, I tend to get very aggressive and pretty violent in conversations with other people. Anyway, the point being that I never said anything that wasn't true, I just don't think everything needed to be said right now, right before he comes home, and especially as dramatic as it was. Yes, my feelings were/are real, but I absolutely took the freight train to Crazy Town.

Right after we hung up, I watched the last episode of Scrubs, cried hysterically, and then began YouTubing to find a song I would play at my baby's wake, if I ever had a  baby and they died in infancy.

I should probably not be allowed out in public for the next couple of days. I've decided to self-medicate what I've diagnosed as situational depression with Disney movies and flavored schnapps. Probably some ice cream.

Yeah, definitely ice cream.