Life without girlfriends is not worth living.

Today was a bad day.

Munchkin and I drove the few hours to meet up with CPT Dick and do a little house hunting at his new duty station. He had done some of the initial legwork last week and told us that he was taking us to two places that were absolutely perfect for us.

Now, we've been married for several years now. I figured that he actually knew what he was talking about.

Needless it say, it was an absolute disaster. The first house had once been a grand affair but had been gutted into three separate apartments by a previous owner. But now, the new owner was trying to rent it out as a single family home with as little rehabbing as possible. So the place had three tiny kitchens but absolutely no room for a breakfast nook or pantry storage. In order to get between the two bedrooms on the second floor, you had to go down to the first floor and back up a separate staircase. But worse still, the place had no yard, no closet space, was literally right on a busy, busy street and I could see no evidence of any person under the age of 75 nearby. Not a great fit for a two-year-old and his might-as-well-be-single Mom who might need a support network.

In fairness, the place did have a beautiful deck that overlooked the river valley and CPT Dick was in love. I could just see him imagining the many BBQs he would have on that balcony, sipping beers as he looked out in the distance, soothed by the bubbling of the nearby water.

But all I could see, among the other issues with the house, was the huge gaps in the deck railing which my son could (and most likely would) fall through.

The second place was actually gorgeous. Fully rehabbed with open, airy rooms. A yard with plenty of room for Munchkin to run around in. And, a playground with a zipline (yes!) right around the corner. It was almost perfect. Really, the house had only one problem.

The place didn't have a kitchen.

And when I say it didn't have a kitchen, I am being literal. The room that would be the kitchen hadn't even been floored yet. There were no cabinets, no lines for hot and cold water, absolutely nothing. But the owner insisted that if we signed on the dotted line, there would be a kitchen there by the time we move in at the end of the month.

Ummm, yeah. Sure. I bet she has a bridge she could sell me real cheap, too. I told her that we'd be passing on the property.

On the drive home, CPT Dick took my frustration with the process personally. He said that he was sure the landlord could make that kitchen happen. That he had worked hard to find us places and that I was being too picky. That he had busted his ass all week to find a place and I didn't appreciate it. And as I tried to explain myself, explain that as a mother of a toddler that is soon to be on her own for 15-18 months I have certain needs (you know, one of them being a place to cook food), things just went totally downhill. Both of us were tired and cranky, and it just turned into one of those conversations where no one was understanding the other. Really, one of those conversations where no one wanted to understand the other. And so by the time we reached home, I was utterly miserable.

As soon as I walked in the door, I sent a long email to my girlfriend, telling her in detail about the day. I wasn't expecting an immediate reply. I just needed to vent.

But within seconds, she responded.

"Jesus, NEE. Next thing you know you're going to be expecting one of those new-fangled indoor bathrooms with a flush toilet. You are so high-maintenance."