Ouch! My Neck!

I couldn’t get comfortable.

I tried to lean my pillow against the window and rest my head on it. Within two seconds my neck started to tense up.

I tried to set my pillow on my lap and lean down.

My neck didn’t like that either.

It didn’t help that Tom had his music on. Tom doesn’t listen to music I like. He listens to music where the artist crones about bitches and hoes. I couldn’t ask him to turn it off though. He was doing all the driving from Wyoming to Oklahoma.

“What’s wrong?” Tom asked, noticing me sit up. I was massaging my neck and scowling at the pillow.

“I’m too old to sleep during road trips,” I answered. When I was younger I could curl into a ball and sleep like that. Now if I tried to curl into a ball my knees would cramp.

It was midnight and we had just driven away from our base in Wyoming for the last time. We were on our way to our new base in Oklahoma, about a nine hour drive. Tom prefers to travel at night so the kids are asleep. And they were. Fast asleep, I mean. I wished I could get some sleep.

“And I like them bitches and hoes,” Tom’s music blared.

“Your music sucks,” I mumbled as I attempted to get comfortable. Why couldn’t we be rich and travel in a comfortable tour bus?

“My music doesn’t suck. Yours does,” Tom retorted.

“Mine has real lyrics. Happy lyrics,” I argued. I mean, really. Why must men constantly rap about women being hoes? It’s been done. Move on. I fluffed my pillow a few times and leaned it against the window again. This would just have to do.

I managed to sleep on and off. Each time I’d wake up my neck would be killing me. And a few times I dreamed about bitches and hoes.

I’m kidding.

We made it to Oklahoma in the morning. The first thing we did was drive to the housing office to see if we could get our house that day instead of waiting tomorrow. When Tom ran inside to get all the paperwork, I waited in the car with the kids and the cat, who was beginning to meow pathetically. It sounded like we had a sick child in the car from the way he was carrying on.

I decided to stretch my legs so I opened the car door and…

…holy crap, extreme heat. See, I had left Wyoming where the high had been in the sixties. Suddenly it was ninety degrees.

Needless to say I got right back into the air conditioned car.

“Meowwwww….meowww…” Max the cat whined.

“Hold on, Max,” I said.

“Meowwwwwww….MEOWWWWW…”

“Mommy, he sounds sad,” Tommy said, sticking his face up to Max’s cage.

“MEOWWWW!”

“Maybe he has to poop?” Natalie suggested. She’s been really into poop these days. It’s all she wants to talk about. Like she calls me a Poop Face. Or she’ll say, “Hi, I’m Natalie and I poop. Do you?”

Crap though. Maybe Max DID have to poop. Hopefully we could get into the house…

Tom appeared a little while later and good news! We could get in the house early. We followed a worker from housing to our new home and she let us in.

I was impressed. Everything is brand new. And we even have a fridge that has water and an ice maker on the front.

Pictures will follow when it’s furnished. I’ve posted some on my Twitter account.

The new house though?

Is wonderful. It’s the nicest base housing we lived at and this is probably because these are privatized. That means it’s run by a non-military company but it’s still base housing. They even mow the front yard for you. Win!

After we were handed over the keys to our new home, Tom and I danced in the kitchen.

“Look at this fridge with the ice maker on the front!” I yelled.

“Look at this garage where I can put all my tools!” Tom yelled.

“Look at Max squatting on the floor!” Natalie yelled.

Crap! We scrambled to get his cat box set up and placed him in it. There would be no messing up our new floors.

“Now we just need to go furniture shopping,” Tom said.

True. We needed a couch and a bedroom set.

That adventure will be in tomorrow’s post. Furniture shopping with a husband who has different taste than my own=blog fodder.