The King just called. He's not coming home when he was scheduled to. His homecoming has been pushed back about two weeks, to the first week in February. Damn it. I'm not shocked, and I guess I should remember it can be much worse--the last time he was in Afganistan, his homecoming was pushed back by two months. But it's still really, really annoying. Looks like I'll be selling our house by myself, just like I bought it by myself, last time he was in Afganistan. There's a certain sucky balance in that.
Other than the yucky news, he's doing well. It's late at night there, and I have no idea why he was calling me (although it was totally sweet), because he's planning to get up at 4 am to watch the Busch car race live, and then staying up to watch the final NASCAR race of the season in the evening. So it'll be a long day for him, but he loves racing more than just about anything else except me and the Corvette he used to own.
All right, I've got to go change the date on my countdown sidebar. Damn it.