It is not humanly possible to accomplish the tasks that should occur in the 72 hours prior to mobilization. This is all well and good because I have neither the inclination nor mental fortitude to comprehend all that will not get accomplished. For example:
Learn how to make routine repairs. Immediate concerns include a hot tub valve stuffed with the back half of a purple plastic frog, a ceiling fan motor clogged with peanut butter and Barbie sticker remnants, and extrication of protruding tweezers from the kitchen island’s electrical socket.
Prepare a generic list of responses to anticipate my childrens’ inherent ability to smell weakness, preferably in a way that will not cause permanent emotional damage. Cover the anticipated basics including but not limited to requests for piercings, home drumming lessons, stray puppy adoption, amusement-related vacation destinations, and the purchase of any electronic game containing the word “felony” in the title and/or advocating virtual disembowelment.
Create an exhaustive inventory of all household appliances that will inexplicably fail to operate upon Husband’s departure, together with corresponding Dates of Inconvenience that are most likely to provide a catalyst for their collective demise, should any of them remain functional past the third week of his absence.
Find a secure, secret, yet memorable location to store the new will, power of attorney, and insurance papers. Ideally this location should not be confused with the recently forgotten but extremely safe location of the previous versions.
Speaking of mental fortitude, I have considered the tools at my disposal to stop the mobilization process, including a tantrum supernova that would establish my chronic instability and require Husband’s position to be reassigned. I learned (theoretically) that any such attempts would be interpreted as “normal” by the Navy psychologist. The worst case scenario would only slightly delay Husband’s impending departure, which would likely coincide with my release. Instead, I came up with a repeatable mantra:
The shortest distance between two inevitable points is an impossibly long line of distractions.