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So, yet again, the Army is a giant bunch of suck. Not that they ever stopped, mind you, I've just been giving them the benefit of the doubt lately cause I was in a good mood.
Sgt. Buttnugget is just very, very lucky that he doesn't have anything to do with us anymore. That's all I'm saying.
Although, I am going to miss typing his name.
Anyway. Got a call from the local base's Army Transport today. They're coming for our stuff on the 29th. That would be two days after we asked them to. Which is fine. Cause, you know, they're the Army. They move to their own drum cadence.
The kicker is... they won't deliver our stuff for five to seven BUSINESS DAYS and when they do deliver it, it's going into storage at the Fort.
Umm... WTFBBQ?
So, I'm all, "Excuse me? You want me to live in a house with no furniture for a week and then I have to hire a moving van to get my stuff out of storage?"
"Well, you don't have an address in Oklahoma."
"That would be because you people won't let my husband have an hour to find a house." You twit.
"That's not our problem." I kid you not.
"Whatever. We will have an address before the mover arrives, can't we have it moved to our home at that point?"
"You need to discuss that with the mover."
Except that the mover isn't Army, and I've learned in the last six months that to gain permission for anything... no matter how small... you need paperwork. Six copies of everything. (What's the word for that? Three is triplicate, so what is six?)
As it is, I'm going to have to rent a U-Haul to move the necessities I can't live without for the week and a half I won't have furniture. And no one is touching this computer but myself and DH. No one. If it gets broken, I want it to be my fault, damnit.
Kitties are back from the vet. Their little paws are wrapped up like very sad looking mummies. And they are pissed. And none to pleased about the newspaper in their litter box, either.
Loki has already refused to use it once. The computer chair is currently being aired out after a lovely scrub down and Febreezeing.
Sgt. Buttnugget is just very, very lucky that he doesn't have anything to do with us anymore. That's all I'm saying.
Although, I am going to miss typing his name.
Anyway. Got a call from the local base's Army Transport today. They're coming for our stuff on the 29th. That would be two days after we asked them to. Which is fine. Cause, you know, they're the Army. They move to their own drum cadence.
The kicker is... they won't deliver our stuff for five to seven BUSINESS DAYS and when they do deliver it, it's going into storage at the Fort.
Umm... WTFBBQ?
So, I'm all, "Excuse me? You want me to live in a house with no furniture for a week and then I have to hire a moving van to get my stuff out of storage?"
"Well, you don't have an address in Oklahoma."
"That would be because you people won't let my husband have an hour to find a house." You twit.
"That's not our problem." I kid you not.
"Whatever. We will have an address before the mover arrives, can't we have it moved to our home at that point?"
"You need to discuss that with the mover."
Except that the mover isn't Army, and I've learned in the last six months that to gain permission for anything... no matter how small... you need paperwork. Six copies of everything. (What's the word for that? Three is triplicate, so what is six?)
As it is, I'm going to have to rent a U-Haul to move the necessities I can't live without for the week and a half I won't have furniture. And no one is touching this computer but myself and DH. No one. If it gets broken, I want it to be my fault, damnit.
Kitties are back from the vet. Their little paws are wrapped up like very sad looking mummies. And they are pissed. And none to pleased about the newspaper in their litter box, either.
Loki has already refused to use it once. The computer chair is currently being aired out after a lovely scrub down and Febreezeing.
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And, oh, your poor kitties. I know that cats hate having anything on their paws anyway. This must be frustrating for all of you. As evidenced by the computer chair. ;)