Tick-Tock Tick-Tock

Time. Most people want more of it. I never thought there’d be a time in my life when I wanted less of it. Yet, here I am.

Newly married, mid-twenties, dog, apartment, and jobless. How?

Military life. Army life to be exact. My husband is stationed at a base in Florida. I knew that being an Army wife would be hard. Like everyone says, it’s what I signed up for.

I guess I just didn’t realize how much I would be giving up. I loved my marketing job in Boulder—mostly the people. I miss the people the most. Strolling down Pearl Street, looming mountains in the background, bagged lunch in hand from the local deli, ready to sit in on a marketing meeting, ready to give my opinion and point of view on which direction we should go with the new social campaign.

A huge cross country trip from Colorado to Florida, a wedding in North Carolina, and an awesome honeymoon in Costa Rica was the insane, roller coaster of a build-up to our new life in Destin, Florida, where I’ve taken on the “traditional wife” role if you want to call it that.

I plan lunches and dinners (dinner planning lasted about a week and then I signed up for HelloFresh!), grocery shop, clean up like a madwoman after our Alaskan Malamute mix, and attend Pure Barre classes most mornings (LTB, ladies!).

I actually think I’m going a little insane. A few watermarks on our bathroom mirror? Gotta wipe those away now. Dust on our TV console? I dive in, rag and Pledge in hand. A small pile of clothes in our laundry basket? Gotta do a load of laundry. Now. Insane.

You’re probably thinking, “Destin, Florida. Wow, that’s terrible I feel sooo bad for you. You can go to the beach everyday and get a sweet tan and eat as much seafood as you want.”

It’s true the beach is gorgeous. My tan is at peak tan point for a pale girl like me. Our pool rules. Married life is fun. But something is missing.

I troll the Craigslist job section daily (Coyote Ugly Saloon is hiring bartenders and bar dancers. I think seriously about emailing them my resume for a few minutes. I can shake my ass on top of a bar, right?) Various seafood restaurants need servers and bussers, retail shops need sales associates, and some sketchy guy needs “a personal assistant willing to go above and beyond,” I try not to read too much into that one.

Don’t get me wrong. I would sign up for any and all of the above if I needed to (OK except for the personal assistant one). But then I get angry. What was the point in getting a master’s degree in journalism if I don’t use it? My student loan payments taunt me every month “Pay me even though you don’t use me!”

Rude.

I’m trying to think of this as a transitional period. Trying to think of it as a time to start writing again (hence this post). Something’s going to happen, I just need the patience to get through. Help me, Lawd. Patience isn’t exactly one of my virtues.

Luckily, my husband is great and I wouldn’t change any of the above.

BUT if I were the government I would change it so that military bases are around actual cities so that military families and spouses can have careers and a semblance of normalcy. But that’s all, really. That’s it.