My mailbox is mocking me. I see it laughing at me, it's box leaning slightly to the left or right depending on how much the postman has stuffed in it. Initially I would check the box hopeful each day, even coming home on my lunch hour to check. NO MORE! The love affair with the mailbox has turned sour. By yesterday, I decided the exhaustion I felt was more related to I-171H stress than jet lag. I'm so tired I can't force myself into the gym, so the box has got to go!
I've decided that I have done what I can to intervene for the I-171H. I have written an e-mail and called the USCIS office twice this week with no response from them. How odd. I first thought that it meant the form was in the mail; now I'm thinking that they lost the whole file. If I don't hear something by next Friday (aka day 30 and the end of the suggested waiting period), I'm calling Evan Bayh and Dick Lugar. This is ridiculous. So, as part of my "therapy" I'm not going to mention the I-171H again until I receive it. There. I'm done.
This week raced by in a blur. I was tired from having a wacky sleep schedule and we were so busy. Or, I should say, I was so busy. The rest of the hospital was frighteningly slow. It was good to be busy and not have time to think. My friends have also been good to keep me busy on a few nights this week. Thanks Sherry, baby Rosa, and Michael. It amazes me the support that adoptive parents have on-line. I had sent out a prayer request about the you-know-what that I'm not going to talk about anymore on a general list-serve for one of the Yahoo groups I'm signed on with. Within hours people I had never heard of were contacting me with suggestions, advice and to let me know they were praying for me. What a surprise!
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