I have been chronicling my husband's love of all things Gear in The Geardo Chronicles. It's truly ridiculous. There's gear in every room of my house, and no matter how hard I try to pack all this stuff out of the way, it creeps back into every nook and cranny.
I've learned to live with it. I can deal with finding holsters in my child's bedroom. I understand that where other people use bungee cords to tie things down in pick up beds, we use 550 Cord. I understand that body armor is bulky, and that the uniforms, boots, chem gear, and whatever else looked cool the day they had some to give out will take up a decent amount of room.
But this time, Air Force Guy's gear has gone too far. The other day I took out my sewing box to put some of those awesome sarcastic patches on my boxing bag, and I FOUND PIECES OF GEAR IN MY SEWING BOX. Is nothing sacred?
Can someone tell me how this happened? Because, for one, Air Force Guy is deployed. He hasn't been home to put the darn gear in my sewing box. And you can add to that the fact that AFG is physically repelled by the sewing box. It seems to be surrounded by a solid wall of estrogen that makes men jittery and strikes fear into their hearts with the sudden urge to eat cookie dough ice cream and watch movies on Lifetime TV. I thought my sewing box was the one guaranteed Gear-Free Area of our home.
I think the gear might be alive. I think it has it's own sense of collective consciousness and a rudimentary ability to move. Either that or it communicates with my dogs and cats to hitch a ride to various places in my house.
Never fear, though. I have thought long and hard on the matter and I have figured out a way to fight back.
AFG's deployment will be over soon (comparatively). He will come home with more bags than he left with. They will be full of gear he managed to scrounge up somewhere, the gear he left with, and gear that apparently magically appeared in his bags sometime during the last year. It will take a few weeks, but eventually it will be unpacked enough (the major stuff put away and the bags stowed). It is then that I will go to work.
I plan to use all the feminine tools I have at my disposal. I will use Midol, and I will use tampons. I will use Michael Buble CDs, lipstick, pantyhose, and underwear. If I'm feeling particularly feisty I'll grab a feminine waxing kit. And I'm going to hide these things here and there in all of AFG's gear bags. Every single one. I will find nooks and crannies. I'll put tampons in his boots and pantyliners in his folded tactical socks.
I will have my revenge on the gear-creep in this house. It ends here.
