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Just discovered why the neighborhood kids were so loud today. They are in my driveway.
Had a "Moment" on Monday. You know, one of those moments out of time when you realize just how emotionally psychotic you are? Or am I the only one who has those?
Anyway, DH came home and told me that we had thirty minutes to get ready and out to the base for a Family Support Meeting. That he had know about for all of half an hour. I didn't want to go. Was very anxious about it, as a matter of fact. But I got ready, put on shoes (BTW, I now own seventeen pairs of shoes that no longer fit me since the mysterious foot shrinkage of '04.) and waited around for another twenty minutes while DH did his whatever. I told him we were going to be late, as I've never seen him make the drive to base in ten minutes, much less find someplace ON base.
We pulled into the parking lot over ten minutes late. And I nearly refused to get out of the car. I actually made it a dozen yards from the car before my feet refused to move another inch. By the time DH turned to see what was wrong I was actually crying. I did not want to go into a room full of people I didn't know, Especially a room full who would be looking at me because I was late.
I hate crowds. I hate groups of people I'm not familiar with. Hate being around strangers. Hate. Hate. Hate. My heart starts to pound, I get clammy and sick. Panic attacks, I think the Quack used to call them.
One or two at a time, I can handle. Entire rooms full? No.
If I have enough notice, I can usually psych myself up enough to stumble my anti-social self through something like that. Or if I have enough of a "Support Base" (also, thanks to the Quack) that I feel comfortable. Apparently, thirty minutes of rushing to be late wasn't enough notice.
-- ~ --
DH stopped by the house this morning to remind me that he is required to appear at a small Christmas/Holiday gathering on Friday. Small, as in from 4-8 with his entire Unit (not just platoon). And it was "suggested" that I attend. Cause, you know, according to the Army I'm DH's Bitch and he just has to snap his fingers and tell me to do stuff and I'm there. Asked him what the dress code was, because the How To Be An Army Spouse Without Killing Yourself book says that I can figure out what I should wear based on Hubby's dress code. It's casual, which I clarified to mean civvies.
So glad I am skipping my sister's college graduation for this.
Told DH he can invite some friends over this weekend to play cards, if he wants.
Realized I have lived here for over a month and I haven't written a SINGLE THING since the move. Very not happy about that.
And, as if all that wasn't bad enough...
My Internet connection was out all day Monday and continues to drop out on me at the most inconvenient times this week.
-- ~ --
Gacked from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wendynat
I like the thought ofgrandpoohbah being my arch-nemesis.
Had a "Moment" on Monday. You know, one of those moments out of time when you realize just how emotionally psychotic you are? Or am I the only one who has those?
Anyway, DH came home and told me that we had thirty minutes to get ready and out to the base for a Family Support Meeting. That he had know about for all of half an hour. I didn't want to go. Was very anxious about it, as a matter of fact. But I got ready, put on shoes (BTW, I now own seventeen pairs of shoes that no longer fit me since the mysterious foot shrinkage of '04.) and waited around for another twenty minutes while DH did his whatever. I told him we were going to be late, as I've never seen him make the drive to base in ten minutes, much less find someplace ON base.
We pulled into the parking lot over ten minutes late. And I nearly refused to get out of the car. I actually made it a dozen yards from the car before my feet refused to move another inch. By the time DH turned to see what was wrong I was actually crying. I did not want to go into a room full of people I didn't know, Especially a room full who would be looking at me because I was late.
I hate crowds. I hate groups of people I'm not familiar with. Hate being around strangers. Hate. Hate. Hate. My heart starts to pound, I get clammy and sick. Panic attacks, I think the Quack used to call them.
One or two at a time, I can handle. Entire rooms full? No.
If I have enough notice, I can usually psych myself up enough to stumble my anti-social self through something like that. Or if I have enough of a "Support Base" (also, thanks to the Quack) that I feel comfortable. Apparently, thirty minutes of rushing to be late wasn't enough notice.
DH stopped by the house this morning to remind me that he is required to appear at a small Christmas/Holiday gathering on Friday. Small, as in from 4-8 with his entire Unit (not just platoon). And it was "suggested" that I attend. Cause, you know, according to the Army I'm DH's Bitch and he just has to snap his fingers and tell me to do stuff and I'm there. Asked him what the dress code was, because the How To Be An Army Spouse Without Killing Yourself book says that I can figure out what I should wear based on Hubby's dress code. It's casual, which I clarified to mean civvies.
So glad I am skipping my sister's college graduation for this.
Told DH he can invite some friends over this weekend to play cards, if he wants.
Realized I have lived here for over a month and I haven't written a SINGLE THING since the move. Very not happy about that.
And, as if all that wasn't bad enough...
My Internet connection was out all day Monday and continues to drop out on me at the most inconvenient times this week.
Gacked from
wendynatI like the thought of
grandpoohbah being my arch-nemesis.Tags: