Whenever I get optimistic about something, it’s bound to go wrong. The whole South Carolina disaster, the threat of Gestational Diabetes, and pretty much our entire [on-hold] adoption journey are excellent examples of why I am the most pessimistic person on the face of the planet. When I freak out and go into pessimism over-drive, things tend to work themselves out.
Unfortunately, since S told me his colleague had gotten his CLC3 (Combined Logistics Captains Career Course) class assigned, my mind has been actively rolling through all of the possibilities laid out before us.
Instead, I should be focusing on the most-likely outcome: a response that says something along the lines of “Nope. You can have none of these. Go back to start and try again.” Even though all of the options he gave, which I outlined the other day, have some potential negatives, those negatives really, really pale in comparison to the biggest positive: We get out of Washington.
I have no idea when we will get word, but in the meantime, I am trying to make myself remember that whatever happens, it’s not going to be anything good.
And tomorrow is Diabeetus day. Wish me luck. Or not. I’m already figuring that’s going to come back with results that involve lots of finger prints and food that includes mostly broccoli and cabbage (good thing I like broccoli and cabbage).
