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Home sweet home, Gua.. I mean, Groton

Moving a lot is part of the stereotypical military life. How often depends on the service; for the Navy it's every two to three years. When I talk about trying to get comfortable in another new place, I feel like people don't quite understand why. I have moved three times in two years. I have lived on two different islands and have taken more miserable flights than you could imagine. And now I'm in this house in Groton, Connecticut. It's big and new and my cats are here and Anthony's here but I'm always antsy and irritable. I can't believe the holiday season is here already. So begins the phone calls from both of our families, wondering when we plan on flying out. Even if we could afford it, we wouldn't go. We've been traveling so much already. We spent way too long in Denver last month. At least now he sees from my point of view. I won't even go into that right now.

I guess this time is a bit more frustrating because we're cash strapped. Not only are we busy trying to furnish a new house and everything, but we're taking a sizable pay cut. Partly it's my fault for not doing my research. In Guam and Hawaii, there is a family services facility that will give you anything that you would need for your kitchen from toasters to plates and flatware and various cookware. The Groton facility doesn't do this. Secondly, on the islands, they'll give you loaner furniture for a few months. Not here. So all the money we weren't planning on spending for these sorts of things is getting spent. And it sucks.

Sitting on air mattresses makes my hip joints hurt. This is the point where I get up and mill around the house until Ant brings the car home.

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