Can I be me again?

In the post I wrote just last night, I was talking about how surprised I was that last weekend wasn't emotional. I thought maybe I'd just kicked into survival mode or something. Well, I went to sleep last night in survival mode and woke up in a completely irrational mode.

I didn't realize it for a long time. I really wanted to go back to sleep when my alarm went off, but after two late nights in a row (I was up until 1:30 last night), that was expected. I got up and started my daily routine, which had an some added chores of loading my car with a ton of things. I had to pack all Piper's toys and food for a week. I packed my clothes for a week, which wound up being more than usual because Mother Nature thinks it's summer the next couple days, and then it'll become fall and winter in one day.

K requested I make my cheesecake for Thanksgiving. Since all of his and his roommate's things are in storage, that means I had to pack absolutely everything I'd need to prepare it -- even spoons for mixing.

I packed some champagne and some wine we bought a couple months back so we could enjoy it this weekend -- I won't drink it if I'm alone, and we bought it to drink together. There were some other things, things I can't even remember right now, but my trunk is pretty loaded.

I busied myself with that this morning, and when I was finished, it was time to take Piper for a walk. This is usually a pretty frustrating time for me, since I usually feel more like the one who's being walked than the one who's doing the walking, but today was worse. And the thing is, Piper wasn't really doing anything that abnormal. I could feel myself growing more and more frustrated at her, and it was like an out-of-body experience. It was like I was watching myself and thinking, "This really isn't a big deal. It's nothing to get worked up over." But then I'd watch myself just walk right on passed a sensible level of frustration and snap at her. I didn't hit her or anything, but it was frustrating to see myself getting so worked up over a puppy who, really, is just being a puppy.

I had tried to call K several times to ask him if I needed to pack the forementioned wine and champagne. Of course, by the time I got in touch with him, I was in my car, ready to back out and head to work. And of course he told me to go ahead and bring the bottles. Which meant I had to go back inside to get them and put them in a cooler. It would be easier to bring Piper with me, rather than leave her to possibly get wet paw prints all over the seats of my car. As I climbed the stairs to my apartment, still on the phone with K, he pointed out that she was just being a puppy. "It's usually me who gets frustrated with her," he said. He pointed out that she wasn't doing anything that bad -- and I knew that.

It was then that it finally registered what the problem was.

I had loaded my car for the trip to Louisiana. The last such trip I'll be taking for 15 months. Because when I come home, it'll be because K is on his way to Ir@q.

I'm stressed, and I'm sad.

In a way, I'm really just ready for him to go. Once he's on his way, I can start figuring out my routine again -- a routine that doesn't involve fun visits on weekends. I can begin my mental to-do list (It includes such exciting things as ridding my wardrobe of things I don't wear, shredding files and getting rid of things I don't need anymore so there's less to move once K gets back. And looking into some kind of photography class. I think I'm even going to run -- and train for -- a half-marathon.).

And instead of my life being a countdown to when K leaves, it'll be a countdown to when he comes home.

A countdown to when we can finally live in the same place as husband and wife. Those are countdowns that are much more fun (and positive). I could really use something like that right now.