Like Butter Over Too Much Bread

I had wondered, fairly recently, at someone I know who appeared to have a mild nervous breakdown as the end of deployment approached.  Really?  I thought. That close, you would think she’d be happy and coming out of the dark, endless days of “the middle.”  This should be a get-busy-and-become-joyful period.

Nope.

Here we are, seven weeks to go, and I appear to be having a mild nervous breakdown.  I mean, not anything debilitating.  It more like I’m just spoiling for a fight at any moment.  Ready to spit at the drop of a hat.  Honk at non-sentient objects in the road.  Yell back at my toddler instead of telling him to speak softly.  Swear at [non-present] professors who have their heads in their behinds when it comes to grading standards and assignment-expectations communication.  Buy furniture.  Regret furniture.  Be happy about furniture again.  Stuff like that.

Weird.  Too bad V was a FLAMING ATTITUDE BALL on Thursday night and I wasn’t able to leave him with the sitter so I could go to the return & reunion brief.  They might have explained some of this to me.  But they do the brief once a month and I’ll miss the next one.  Besides, at that point it’ll probably be too late.  I’ll have figured out how to cope on my own by then, and the entire brief will feel like a waste of my brain cells like most of the briefs that I attend.  Ah well.  Better luck next deployment.