This weekend is a drill weekend, which means I get to sit around in my fleece pants, not shave my legs and eat ice cream all weekend long.
Oh, wait. I do that anyway.
But, is it a drill weekend? Or is it next weekend that’s a drill weekend? It might be this weekend. Or not. I’m so confused.
You see, since the first weekend of the month is split (Saturday falls in April, Sunday in May), each unit can pick whether they want to drill this coming weekend or the next (which would be the first full weekend of May).
So what does that matter to us?
Well, T was promoted to CPT in Afghanistan where his status was “active duty”. Now that he’s returned to Guard status, he can’t stay with his current unit because in the Guard you can’t have two CPTs in the same unit. He’s sort of homeless for the time being.
He’ll be taking command of his unit in August, so the military only has to find a place for him until then. I was irritated by the decision to move him. I whined, “It’s only for a few months. Why can’t they just fake it?” Then I got the speech about rules and regulations and blah blah blah, something that I didn’t really listen to because I knew it was all BS anyway. They can get around the rules and regs when it’s convenient for them – just not when it’s convenient for us, so don’t pipe me that tune, thanks.
So, they tacked him onto Battalion. About a month ago, T came home and said, “Guess what?”
“You won a million dollars?” I asked.
“No, but Command decided that I can stay with my unit until August because it’s only a few months and it would be a pain to transfer to Battalion, then transfer me back.”
Gee, I wish I’d thought of that.
Earlier this week, word came down that T would be drilling with Battalion after all. Battalion is drilling this coming weekend. Okay, fine. I can take the trash to the dump on my own and maybe I’ll plan a hike with some friends. The weather looks nice.
A couple of days ago we got word that, no, T would be drilling with his original unit the following weekend instead. Okay, fine. T can go hiking with me and my friends this weekend, and we’ll take Owen. And T can go to the dump. Beautiful!
Today we got word that, no, T will go to Battalion unless it’s too short of a notice, in which case he could drill with the original unit. Uh, okay? Maybe I’ll take Owen to the dump and cancel the hike?
Five minutes ago we got word that, no, T will stay with the original unit and drill next weekend. Oh for the love of Pete! At this point, I think I’ll hike to the dump where I’ll meet my friends unless the weather is bad in which case Owen can drive me.
I love the military.
I can’t understand how they can even function sometimes. I mean, if they can’t figure out how a drill weekend is supposed to work, how in the name of your Aunt Fanny can they maintain an entire theatre of operations?
I guess the same way in which my husband can strategize a successful mission from top to bottom, but he can’t find the salsa in the fridge because it’s behind the yogurt.
That’s what I’m telling myself, anyway.