Grumpy. Antsy. Restless. Sulky.

It's been a beautiful day. It's a lovely evening. yeah yeah yeah.
I've done laundry all day long. Literally. All. Day. Long.
Getting crap ready for the movers to come to pack up all our stuff, and put it in a magical place referred to as "Storage, Pending Overseas." Where ever that may be. It could be far away in some storage unit. It could be close by. Getting re-infested with Stink bugs, like our stuff did in Public storage. It doesn't really matter, because it will be nowhere near me.

The EFMP lady sat around for a week and didn't get in touch with me about my bloodwork results and all the other needle torture they are going to put me through.
I know I'm going to have to have a lot of vaccines. They don't even have to tell me. I just can already guess that one.
They will probably invent some other weird vaccine that I will have to get...but I'll have to wait for development and research to approve it.
So, While I'm busy doing all this waiting...the movers are coming.
To take all my stuff away.
My blankets. My pillows. Our ugly sofa. Our stuff.
All the while I am still waiting.

I can't apply for a NoFee/Official passport until I am put on Mike's Orders. I can't be put on his Orders until the 5888 form is signed. That won't be signed until I have all the ridiculous amounts of needles poked into my body, and I can't get any shots until the EFMP woman makes an appointment for it, and she won't make an appointment until someone looks at my bloodwork. And I have no place to live. Lovely.

AND, guess what? they aren't even giving us seperation pay. Why? because I'm not on the orders. And I can't be on the orders until....well, you get the picture.

It's like I've been drop kicked into a Keystone Kops film. While the EFMP lady takes smoke breaks, It's-a-pretty-day breaks, personal days, pops some popcorn, and scratches her ear and looks at her finger, I am waiting. And waiting. AND WAITING. AND WAAAAAAAAAAAAITING.

We paid $165 for a tourist passport. But what good is that? I can't afford to buy a ticket to Germany. AND if I did, I could only go for a visit. And Honestly, there's nothing in Germany that I want to pay to see, except for Michael. And should I really HAVE to pay to see my husband?

I don't know if this is some kind of pyschological test/ practical joke that the army is playing on me. I don't know if they are just wanting me to throw up my hands and say "Ok. OKAY. You win. You don't have to get me to my husband. I'll just go back to Georgia and live my newly married life seperated. Kthanksbye."  I honestly do not know what the deal is, but I do know, I've not met anyone who has gone through this.

I'm just so frustrated. I have no more patience. None.
  In february, I was so sure I'd be with Michael in March. In March I was SO sure it would be April. April is here, and I'm fairly certain I won't be there until end of June, if ever.
And it's making me hate Germany.

There. I said it.

I feel stuck. Stuck here, but kicked out of my home. So, now, not only did the Army take my husband away, they are taking my stuff away, too. Except for what I can cram into two suitcases.
And one of the suitcases will be crammed full of my underwear, because gross. I don't want some sausage link fingers stinky man fondling my underwear while packing it up.

I'm frustrated. My darling little Padgett Temper is brewing. I've kept it from bubbling up for as long as possible.
AND to top it off, I did a search of how long this EFMP process takes. The answer I got was it varies from person to person family to family. Fair enough.
But then I read of a Filipino woman who married a military man, and was joining him in Korea from the Philippines, and it only took her 2 weeks.
It made me SEETH.
2 weeks? she's not even American!!!!! and I'm on what? 2 months. Nice.