Murphy's Law: Military Style

We've all had those days where the universe seems to go out of its way to give us a hard time. However, ever since I've joined the Navy community, other wives have told me this is especially true before your husband goes on deployment. When I took the COMPASS class (Navy 101 for spouses), it seemed like every woman in the room had a horror story. One's car died as soon as she dropped him off at the pier. Another came home to find her dog had eaten an entire Easter basket of chocolate.

I didn't know if their stories made me want to laugh or cry. But it's not like it's fate, I thought to myself. It's just coincidence.

How naive I was. (Read on.)

Solomon left today as part of his military obligation. Unfortunately, I can't share the details of where he's going or how long he'll be gone (because, say it with me, "Loose lips sink ships.") Basically, he'll be away a few weeks for training, come back to San Diego for a hot second, then embark on a several-month-long deployment.

Here's what happened- in a span of an hour- the night before he left: 

1. A pen exploded in the dryer. Solomon's work pants have these huge pockets on the sides, and he stuffs them to the brim. (Spare change...notebooks...his lunch...it's amazing what he fits in there.) Anyway, he left a pen in his pocket and, sadly for us, we didn't realize it until the very end of the laundry process. Our dryer was streaked top to bottom with blue ink. Luckily, with a little rubbing alcohol and a lot of patience, most of it came off. (I've also dried a few loads since then that seem to be fine.) Still, our poor dryer will never look the same.

2. The IRS rejected our tax return. After much debate about how to file our taxes (I like old-school pen and paper; he thinks that's embarrassing), we decided on TaxSlayer. We submitted our return about a week ago and got a confirmation email a few days later. Well, at least I thought it was a confirmation email...I never opened it. (::hangs head in shame::) It was actually a notice letting us know the IRS had rejected our return. They claim my birth date and social security number are not the same as the information the IRS has on record. WHAT? We tried submitting it twice more, and both times, rejected. Naturally, they can't handle this over the phone, so I have to physically go to the Social Security Office in San Diego. I'm going to try my best to resolve the issue before it comes to that, but again, WHAT?

3. There are rocks in the garbage disposal. As part of some team-building exercise, Solomon and his co-workers played paintball last week. He came home looking like the Swamp Thing and tracked mud all over my freshly mopped entryway. I glared at his boots, caked with dirt, and said, "You're going to clean those before you leave, right?"

So of course, Sunday night rolls around and there sit the boots, dirty as ever. In hindsight, I should have let it go. (He's going to sea, for goodness sake.) But I didn't. And he went to clean the boots. But I never imagined he'd do it in the kitchen sink. Outside? No. On top of newspaper? No way. Where we wash the dishes we eat off? Bingo. As he put on the disposal to wash the dirt away, we heard them: a million little rocks banging around under the sink. We've already put in a maintenance request.

It could always be worse, right?

He's a pain in the butt, but I'm still going to miss him!