So, I always ask myself, "why start blogging now?" I mean, here we are, with only 17 weeks, at most, left in this deployment. What's the point? I have no idea.

I blog often, but it's for family. All of the brag pictures. It's hard to bitch and whine and then upload a cute picture of my monkey-boy playing in the sprinkler, ya know? So, I need a different place to bitch and whine.

But ... and here's the big question ... what do I really have to bitch and whine about? I'm not sure ... I need a moment to think about that.

*smoke break* I need to quit. Seriously.

Anyway, the thoughts running through my head are annoying to me, so I figure anyone accidentally running across this would hit "close" pretty quickly. I don't have anything to whine about ... much. I am married to an amazing, sexy man and I have an adorable, stubborn little boy. I don't hate my parents or my in-laws and even though my dog drives me nuts ... well, he just drives me nuts.

What set me off today? Well, I'm actually coming out of a coma. Ben went back to Iraq a few days ago and I vaguelly remember the past few days. Then, today my gazebo fell down. DAMN IT! I bought it and set it up with Ben's dad right before he came home on leave. Piece of shit. It looked beautiful too. All Better Homes and Garden in my back yard with the pretty table and chairs sitting under it. There was ... was ... a lantern hanging from the middle and the flowers are still sort of sitting on the bent up shelves. Damn it again.

I hate Iraq. Would the gazebo still be standing if Ben were home? No, I'm not an idiot. But, I wouldn't be trying to dissasemble the twisted metal on my own.

So, with that, I took my kiddo to subway. It was still early, so I stuck my sandwich in the fridge. But, my child decided that 8p was far too early to go to bed and took over an hour to go to sleep. I was getting hungry and was dreaming about opening that fridge.

It was soggy and is now in the trash.

TRASH. Shit, tomorrow is trash day and we missed last week. I loathe taking the trash out.

Duty calls. Blech.

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