It never fails.
My husband deploys and everything around me breaks.
My vacuum? Stops sucking.
My computer? Stops computing.
My kids? Stop listening.
I'm at the point where I want to run outside and scream, "STOP BREAKING!" But I can't because it would frighten the neighborhood and someone would call Security Forces.
To date, the following items have acted up on me:
--My Dyson vacuum. Apparently there was a hole in the hose. I tweeted about the fact and Dyson was kind enough to send me a replacement hose, free of charge.
--My husband's truck. This was a Big Deal because my husband loves his truck to the point where if he sees kids playing too close to it, he'll go out and say something. My job was to turn it on every couple of days while he was gone so the battery wouldn't die since I do not drive large trucks. Look, guys, I have enough trouble driving my SMALL car around. If I drove the truck, I'd hit something. If I hit something, I'd scratch the truck which would make my husband convulse. I do not think the military would appreciate having a convulsing soldier so I do not drive the truck, I turn it on. Well. The truck acted pissy about this and REFUSED TO TURN ON one day. It turns out the battery died, so I had to replace it. Then it turned on again, which pleased my husband, but now he's like, "How's my truck?" before asking about MY well being. I'm kidding. Kind of.
--The computers. Yes, plural. First my computer started freezing up on me. Yes, it is six years old, but I was insulted by this. I did weekly scans and didn't put anything difficult on it (see: porn.) It should WORK for me! Then my son was like, "Uh, my laptop keeps having these weird pop ups." It turns out he got a trojan virus. I tried running Malaware Bytes but it freezes before it'll dump out the bad stuff. Thus, the pop ups remain.
--My car. Mind you, it didn't BREAK per say, but there I was minding my own business after a successful shopping trip to Target and it DINGS at me. It's all, "Check Tire Pressure!" and I'm like, "Check YOURSELF, I've had enough stuff break, I'm done." A couple minutes later, ANOTHER ding occurs: "Change Oil. 15% oil life." I groaned. "If you're smart enough to tell me I need an oil change, CHANGE IT YOURSELF!" I shrieked. Soon after I felt like a crazy person for screaming at an inanimate object and bought myself a pumpkin spice frappuccino from Starbucks to calm me down.
--My kids. My son is 11 and can be moody as anything. Nothing pleases him. He's offended I have gray hair already. "Does this mean you're very old?" He's offended what I make for dinner. "This looks strange." He's offended when I breathe. My daughter is 6 and is simply bossy. I let her play outside and call out when it is time to come in. She's all, "No thank you," and then takes off. My kids would not behave like this if my husband were here. My daughter would have said, "Yes Daddy!" while pressing a kiss to his cheek. My son would have said his bald head looks fantastic.
--House items. We're in base housing which means land of cheap so this isn't surprising. Towel bars suddenly snapped off. Wooden pieces from the bathroom drawer clattered to the ground while we stood many feet away from it. Paint began flicking off in the bathroom. Basically, our house seems to be melting around us.
--The lawnmower. It wouldn't turn on. There I was pulling the cord thingy and nothing happened. I cursed. I yelled. I kicked it. This was a cause for concern for someone who witnessed my behavior so they offered to help. THEY pulled the string and NOTHING. Luckily another fellow military wife knew someone who could fix it. I have no idea what they did but they managed to get it to turn on again. Yay! However. It's still acting up. The engine will work for a few minutes before shutting down completely. Yes there is oil. Yes there is gas. Everything just HATES ME. All my personal belongings are out to get me. I swear it.
--My iPhone. I mean, okay, it's not broken, but the new update is taking some time to get used to. Sometimes when I'm scrolling Facebook, I accidentally make that menu screen with the flashlight and all of that come up. I'm all, "Did I ASK for you to show up?" Like Stewie once shouted in Family Guy, "I don't like change!"
I'm ready for my husband to come home. I think he's tired of hearing me whine about how I feel like my personal belongings have made a pact to stop working. I know some people are like, "Never complain when your husband is deployed. He's dealing with enough." But screw that. I'm not going to sit there with folded hands and be like, "I'm having a GLORIOUS time here." For one, my husband would see right through it and ask if I was drunk. Two, I don't use the word glorious.
If all goes well, my husband should return next month. I'll hug him. I'll kiss him. And then I'll ask him to fix our things.
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