Okay. Apparently the powers to which we had recourse failed to accurately inform the husband of the proper protocols by which to "move ashore." Apparently we'd been doing everything out of order, and there were several other errands and documents to be taken care of. Belatedly, a checklist was provided, a deadline was established, and the mad scramble began.
Fortunately, the majority of it has been taken care of, courtesy of overnight mail. I love overnight mail. Everything that remains to be done should be done within the week.
That just leaves my crisis of identity. No one will tell me what to do with my driver's license. This is of course all tied up with my state of residence and all those bothersome details. I wanted to get a new one in Georgia, but there wasn't time. I need to renew mine in Virginia before it expires this year (when we're supposed to be moving), but I can't change my name on it unless I come in person. The Virginia DMV hung up on me twice rather than let me talk to a real person. They couldn't give my mother a straight answer when she went to ask on my behalf, except that I should have done it "within thirty days" and that it's already too late. We're going to ask the ID card people on base when we go to get that changed (if we can get it changed), and if they don't know, we'll take a trip down to the legal office. I really don't want to bother getting licensed in California just to ditch it nine months from now, but there may be no better option.
Give me a paper-pusher. I need to strangle one. I beat a fly to death this afternoon, but that wasn't quite good enough.