Seriously, I was thinking I might squirt some tears departing from Norfolk. I did a little, over leaving my new friends at the Y (we already miss Michelle, Cassandra, Carol, Ashley, Ms. Barbara, and on and on). However, there are many things that I will. not. miss. (shout out to the ladies from Rants from Mommyland for making the use of the period so meaningful).
1. Not having a dishwasher. Not much else I can say about that. Wait a second....Nope. I got nothing.
2. Not having really sharp knives. We are a cooking family. If you like to cook you know the importance of really sharp knives.
3. The housekeeping staff. Most people think, "wow, you had housekeeping for ten weeks? Nice!" No. The first day the crazy retired harbor chick made it clear she was nuts. I think she said this to me, "We're here to take care of the men." I don't know about you, but this made her sound like a prostitute. Take care of the men? Baaahawhawha. She also told me that they "might" remember to take out the trash. Not from our house...but the ginormous can outside of our house about twenty feet to the road. Lastly, she said if we backed up the plumbing, we would be out on the street. Right. We filed a complaint and never saw her or her gray skunk stripe again. (she looked like Stripe from the Gremlins in human form). And yes, they sometimes remembered to take out our trash. It was really hard to remember, given that they took our neighbor's bin out every week, without fail. (Our trash cans are 2 feet away from each other).
4. I will not miss getting hit on by men who are old enough to be my father on the 4th floor of the Y. Yes, I am working out as hard as you. My presence, the fact that I was friendly, and one of the few females who entered that floor does not give you the right/privilege to hit on me. And yes, I told my husband.
5. Getting stuck in underwater tunnel traffic. I'm not sure how many tunnels there are, but I swear they are everywhere. And they always involve traffic.
6. Hearing the trumpet, National Anthem, Taps, etc. at daybreak and sunset. I am patriotic. Just not every single day. And night.
7. The weird, awkward moment upon entering base when the "guy" or "gurl" (Jack's description) salutes (Jack calls it "sa-uut") us. Yes, salute my husband. He's the military officer. Not me. And why me? Is it because I married him? Is it the sticker on the car? It makes me feel funny and I am still not sure what to do back. Do I smile? Wave? Salute? Say thank-you? Jack thinks it's great. Brad said it is a "Navy thing" so no more saluting at good 'ol Fort Belvoir. Whew!
I guess these are all minor irritations - so one last hoorah for Norfolk, our new home away from home!
Anna Marie
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