Rolling with the Punches

Yesterday was a bit rough. B came home at lunch to let me know that his idiot boss was once again having him go do shitty work that was going to destroy our weekend plans. Sometimes I don’t get how that only happens to us. Then I went to assuage my headache with a soda, only to find out that the friend who dog sat for us not only left the dogs alone so long that my carpet reeks of pee, but also drank all our sodas, didn’t tell us, and hid the boxes so we wouldn’t notice right away. Cue my post-vacation meltdown. Luckily two hours straight of good piano lessons and a long cuddle session on the couch later, I felt somewhat stable.

This morning as B went off to work, I was walking with a dear friend. We were talking about the fact that B’s next assignment is due to drop any day now. Her parting words were that maybe I would be surprised sometime soon, though knowing the AF it probably wouldn’t be a good surprise. As I was prepping the food for dinner, B returned home because sure enough he didn’t have to work today but no one bothered to call and tell him that. Also, our assignment came in.

Did we get one of our top picks as promised we would by his functional manager when we took this base? Of course not. Did we get one of the other good, if not our first choice, options that also populated the listing? Of course not. Did we get a base that literally is as close to the worst place ever without actually being Minot? Of course we did.

Strike 3, AF, you’re out.

B is going to talk to the Commander, going to call the functional, but it looks like we’ll be going to a place that wasn’t on our listing, wasn’t even an option, and would never have come close to being a choice of ours at all. Every other officer to leave this base in front of us, has been mediocre to bad at their job and they all got their top picks.

I managed to hold on to a make the best of it attitude while B was still at home. Then I went for a run to try to pound out the frustration. I know we will make the best of it, but I am so inordinately tired of hating where we live. I’m tired of hating everything about his job. Maybe this is the push we need to find out what is next. Or maybe it’s just proof that the AF sucks majorly.

I know we’ll roll with the punches. We always do.

~The Countess~


About texancountess

I find myself in the calming roar of the sea, floating gently on the foam of the breaking waves. Blue. Green. Gray. The colors of the sea mark the boundaries of my soul. The tumbled glass finds its polish under the relentless pounding of the waves upon the shore. Thus am I. Rough transitioning to polish, refinement ever a process, finding my niche in the storms of life.
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One Response to Rolling with the Punches

  1. Alison V. says:

    It seems like it’s always the good Airmen/Marine/Sailor that get the short end of the stick. Or maybe it just seems like that with my husband. He is good at his job and does the right thing instead of only looking out for himself. Yet it seems like the guys who screw everyone and do a crappy job in order to only look out for themselves are rewarded. It’s a major bummer.

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