Five

That's the number of times I've broken down into tears since my husband has been away. I finally hit five sheer breakdowns today.

Today's was a whopper and it lasted for hours off and on. I think I might have regained my composure, but I'm not sure. I might continue to cry off and on.

An asshole stole my wallet today.

As in where I keep my driver's license which I have to spend all morning/afternoon/night replacing tomorrow at the DMV because their earliest appointment is 2 May.

As in where I keep my student ID which also serves as library card which I will also have to replace tomorrow.

As in where I keep my credit card.

As in where I keep my ATM card.

As in where I keep my Disneyland passes for both me and Collin.

As in where I keep my military ID that has my husband's social security number printed right on the front, in plain sight. You know, the thing that CAN'T be replaced without the physical presence of my husband, who DOESN'T live here. The thing that we are going to have to go through hoops to replace now.

As in where I keep my grocery club savings card. Yeah, that's not a big deal, but it adds insult to injury.

I hate this person. A lot.

I also hate that this person did this now. I hate that this person did it at the last few weeks of the semester when I really, really don't have time to deal with the nonsense associated with replacing a lost wallet. I can't tell you the number of manners in which I've imagined her suffering. Why do I know it's a her? Because the only time my bag was unattended was when I was in the female bathroom. I hate her and I hope she's suffering intensely or will be soon.

I hope she gets the stomach flu on the morning of every important event of her life, including but not limited to her wedding, and all major holidays. I hope that she has gastro-intestinal distress during every school presentation. I hope that she has uncontrollable flatulence on every date that she goes on. I hope that she, one day, gets pregnant and has morning sickness so bad that she has to carry baggies in her pockets and finds no suitable garbage can in which to stow the used ones. I hope that she...you get the picture. I hope nothing but bad things for her until one day, she thinks to herself, gee I remember that day that I took that green wallet that belonged to Rachel someone, during the weeks approaching finals and gee, I'm a bitch. I should do something nice to the world to repent the err of my ways.

To make things feel a little better, I remembered that I had my Reserve ID card, so I can at least get on and off base until we can replace my other ID card. Phew. You know what though? It means that using it, I still carry my rank. So guess who's getting saluted? Yeah, me. It gave me just the little boost I needed on this shit-storm of an afternoon.

Let's keep that breakdown number at five, shall we?