Time to pack... again

A few weeks ago, when Brandon called to tell me he was coming to the US, he cautioned me that he might be sent back to Cairo before the evacuation was lifted.  Which meant that I would be left here with the children.  I waved it off, delighted to be seeing him, if only for a month.

I didn't even get that month.  He received a call from his boss today, telling him that they needed him back in the Consular section.  If all is approved by M, then he'll be boarding a plane for Cairo on Sunday, three weeks to the day since he came to the US.  And I'll be alone, again, for who knows how long.

I understand that we signed up for this possibility when Brandon joined the Foreign Service.  I don't like it.  But I know that sometimes these things do happen.  But he didn't necessarily need to leave yet - two people from his section are returning.  Four people are in DC.  Two people from his section are married with small children.  Two people are single.

Guess who they are sending back?  And to add insult to injury, the two management who decided to send the two married people are... you guessed it - two single people.

I was going to write a post yesterday commemorating three weeks of being evacuated.  I was going to write how life has settled down to something really approaching normal; we have a daily schedule, we have parks we like to visit, I have a library card, I've even started running in the morning again.

But now, my life has been blown apart again.  I'm getting tired of this.