Why is it. . .? or. . . Rantings and Ravings of a soldier who misses her guys and wants to go home

Why is it that you complain when anyone else makes noise in the hooch, but when you are the one making the noise it’s ok?

Why is it that we go to lunch at the same time everyday and if something changes we talk about it but today I got left sitting reading my book waiting for you to show up? And when you got back and I asked you how lunch was, why is it that you didn’t even get a clue?

Why is it that all the other chow halls have chocolate milk but ours can’t seem to stock it?

Why is it that all the cool people have to go home for reasons beyond our control, but all the useless people are stuck here?

Why is it that you can play your music as loud as you want all day long, but when I turn mine on for a little bit, you ask me to turn it down? How do I turn it down when the volume is at its lowest level?

Why is it ok for some people to do lots of PT and some people do no PT and everyone gets treated the same?

Why is it that we can go to the chow hall and North PX without a buddy during daylight hours, but we can’t go to the run start point by ourselves for PT? Afterall, it IS located right by the North PX.

Why is it that my ICQ suddenly decided to stop working? And why is it that only my family is on ICQ? Which means, why is it that I can’t talk to my family right now, other than Mom who has Yahoo or Dad who has AIM but I don’t remember his User ID?

Why is it that the “fall back” time change is coming up this weekend but we don’t do it here in Afghanistan so it’s going to mess up all my chat times with my family and friends? Of course, it may make it easier . . .

Speaking of time. . .

Why is it that Afghanistan is 8 1/2 hours ahead of Eastern Time? What’s up with the half hour thing?

Why is it that if women sit down to pee, there’s ALWAYS a dribble on the side of the seat when I go in to take care of business?

Why is it that I can run over the rocks around here better than I can walk over them?

Why is it that it’s always super HOT or super COLD in the hooch? Mostly it’s HOT, though, and I think I live with a bunch of cold-blooded beings.

Why is it that I complain because the chow hall seems to serve the same things all the time, but yet I’m ready to go home and have peanut butter and jelly and yogurt for lunch everyday?

and last but not least (at least for now. . .)

Why is it that I can’t go home and be with my family?

3 thoughts on “Why is it. . .? or. . . Rantings and Ravings of a soldier who misses her guys and wants to go home

  1. I could probably give an answer for most of the questions, but you know ME, do you really want me too? ha ha I may talk about some, sometime.

    And if you remember from what you learned from church or maybe even us, then let me say this, “God won’t give you what you can’t handle on your own!” I know that is not a good answer right now, but there are always reasons beyond our sight to find the other reason why things happen.

    Love DAD.

  2. Aggravation

    It seems to me that people have no common sense or have forgotten common respect for others and common courtesy.

    Plus, I know you know the answer to the last one . . . We miss you too, but know that you will be home before we know it.

    Hugs, MOM

  3. Guess …

    that mail came for a reason today huh??? And I am going to say the same thing as your mom & dad are going to. Some people need to be whopped over the head to get a clue. I’m sorry you’re having such a rotten time.
    And indeed how can you eat those PB&J sandwiches every single day!!! I remember that from chatting with you that I couldn’t get my brain wrapped around that one LOL.
    Girl, it is hard, I understand that, but it is something you have to go through. Do you have a tape measure that you can miss (works best if it is in centimeters)? Figure out how many days you still have to stay. if it is less than 150 days (most tape measures in cms are 150 cm long), you cut off a cm (or day) at the end of each day. This will help you visualise when you’re going home. My dad did this for counting down the days before retiring.
    HUGS, Eva

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