What a week I have had, people of the Internet.
I have to rewind all the way to Sunday. After several days of trying to style my new haircut myself and failing miserably, I decided I had to get it fixed. The front was fine, but the back was a big, stupid mess--it looked like I had cut it myself, it was so bad. I headed to a salon I had gone to previously and got a walk-in appointment with a stylist I'd seen before. She worked WONDERS. My hairs look cuter and more "done" than they have in quite a while. It was such a relief. I had been flipping my lid about Jason coming home and seeing me looking like I got my hair done on the short bus. The thought was horrifying, I tell you. Because seriously, if I can't manage my own head in his absence, what good am I?
Monday evening I got myself looking presentable, as seen above, and headed to the airport to retrieve my long-lost love. When he came strolling through the security doors I jumped on him so enthusiastically that he had to step back to regain his balance. We didn't get much sleep that night.
The next morning I was unceremoniously rousted from bed when my mother-in-law showed up half an hour early for her plans with Jason. She somehow got past our building's security doors and called every phone we have as she walked the halls. Jason went to the door in his underwear to let her in. She then proceeded to turn on the TV at such a high volume that it was impossible for me to pretend to have slept through her arrival. I begrudgingly pulled on my dirty clothes from the night before, slapped on some mascara, brushed my hair and teeth, and made an appearance for the sake of politeness. "Hello," I said, feigning warmth. Said she, in the local dialect: "I LIKE yowa HAAAAAIYAAA!"
I may be an unfit wife who's trying to change every little thing about her baby boy (according to her), but damn it, I do have good hair. Good thing she didn't see me last week with my short bus 'do.
She and Jason left shortly after to spring the Corvette (which I have taken to calling his precioussss) from winter storage, so I was spared any further unsolicited conversation that morning. Our oh-so-merry bunch (that's sarcasm, friends) was reunited later on when we met both parents-in-law at Jason's grandparents' house so he could see them one more time before he's tied down in California (and no, I don't plan to untie him). It was good to see his grandparents, and I hope very much that he knows how proud they are of him. Maybe it will dull the sting of knowing that there are those who seem more resentful than proud.
Of the four days he was here, Jason spent three of them at the car dealership having the Corvette serviced. He may have spent more time with the Chevrolet guys than he did with me. If we ever get divorced, I'm going to make sure I get that car just to hit him where it really hurts. At least with all the tune-ups it got this week, I know that car will make it across the country just fine.
Oh, RELAX! I'm kidding. But not about the part where he went to the dealership three times. If it gets him there safely, though, I'm not going to complain. He is committed to his car maintenance, but even more committed to me.
Wednesday he took me to the Air Force base near us so I could get my military dependent ID. I'm now a card-carrying Navy wife, again. The only downside of it is that my ID picture is heinous--I look like the Crypt Keeper.
Yesterday we splurged on an evening out at, where else, the Cheesecake Factory. Jason was relieved to learn that there is one in Fresno. He wasn't sure he could go on living without access to one. I did my usual tour of the drink menu, Jason stared at my boobs all night, and all was right in the world.
This morning we got up and got more done in an hour than we had in the previous three days. First, Jason called the military mover people to see if we could bump up the big move from the end of May to sometime in April.
I AM MOVING TO CALIFORNIA ON APRIL 1.
Then he called a townhouse community in Hanford (near Lemoore) that we've had our eyes on to see if we could reserve a unit without actually going there (we were waitlisted for base housing--we're eighty-fifth on the list, so it'll be a while before anything's available).
WE ARE THISCLOSE TO HAVING A TOWNHOUSE LOCKED DOWN.
It's the Crystal Creek model on the link above, if you're curious. Two floors of superCALIfragilisticexpialidociousness with a one car garage for Jason's precioussss.
Then we went over to the leasing office and gave our notice. We'll have to pay for the full month of April rent, but I don't really care. I'll gladly pay a little extra to be done with Massachusetts forever.
When Jason left this afternoon, I barely even cried. I'll see him again in a few weeks--and then we can start our lives sans Massholes, as if we never made the mistake of moving to Massachusetts in the first place.