Window seats are such fun!
Mr. Right read my little diatribe about the scrap paper incident and seemed to enjoy it, laughing out loud several times. Well, you know what they say, if the posty sticks…
Open Memo to the Two Houses on the Highway
Christmas is over. Long over. I do not care if you take down your lights (although I’d like to note it IS the warmest January on record) but do STOP PLUGGING THEM IN!!!!!
Isn’t there some provision in the Patriot Act for prosecuting these people??
Things You Learn the Hard Way Department
It’s really challenging to eat an ice cream cone while driving a stick shift.
Stay Tuned for an Ode to the Best January Ever in a future edition, along with kudos to Oprah for changing her stance on Frey.
In case anyone reading this hadn’t noticed, I’m a creature of habit. As far as I’m concerned, change is for Laundromats and parking meters.
This is but one of the reasons I’ve been under incredible stress as of late due to the land-gobbling Evil Empire ruining my little Eden. Ever read that horrible little book Who Moved My Cheese? It sucks. Sold a billion copies so bosses could give it out to employees and make them read it (gosh, wonder how I know so much?) and absolve themselves of the guilt laying off thousands of workers might have otherwise caused.
“Here’s this little book. It will point out that this horrible situation is all your fault. It’s just you. You’re not embracing change.”
Well let me tell you which character I was: Scurry. I’m the stupid little mouse who is bright enough to detect the cheese has moved, but goes running around aimlessly bumping into walls looking for more. Like Chicken Little, I know the sky is falling; I just don’t do anything more productive run around and shriek. But at least I’m running.
Anyhoo… I’m not the type of person to do anything last-minute or unplanned. (Took a year and a half to pick out my last car) My biggest fear is walking into a room and having a bunch of people jump out yelling ‘Surprise!’ I hate surprises. I hate people. The only good surprise I can think of might be the extreme misfortune of someone I didn’t like, and that only really happened once. And the person was so rotten; it wasn’t a surprise at all, so I can’t even count it. Yep. I hate surprises. Oh, wait, here’s an exception: winning a new Corvette. That would be good. Unless it was white. I really don’t like white.
So you get the picture that I don’t do ‘last minute’.
When my free-spirited and confident friend Louise called last night and said some gals had cancelled out at the last minute on the kayaking vacation they had planned for Key West, and would I like to go, of course I said no. Why would I want to leave the lovely Midwest in February just to go look at some sea turtles?
Flying? That’s just an opportunity lose nice luggage and find out your name is on the No-Fly list. (Just to be a bitch, I’m going to wear my Burqua to the airport…)
Reluctantly, I said I would consider it. First, I spoke with Mr. Right. He was okay with it.(Heck, four days without me? He offered to drive me to the airport!)
Well, I’ll check with work. We’re really busy at work. February 4 to 8? Sure. No problem. Enjoy. Uh, Oh. Looks like I have to Make A Decision in a Short Period. Hate that. Hate that.
Mr. Right went on the internet and got me a ticket. Do you want a window seat? Oooh! I don’t know, I agonized. I like the window so you can sleep, and there is that special thrill of being the first one to yell “Engine Four is on fire!!” Or perhaps an aisle seat, so you can trip the hijackers as they rush the cockpit… Decisions! Decisions! Regular Meal, or Low Cholesterol? Either will taste like the cardboard try it’s served on, so I pick regular, knowing darn well something will go wrong and I’ll get a Vegan Special. Bleah. *
So now I just need to buy a new piece of luggage, lose 10 lbs. in a week, and fret. I really owe Mr. Right big time for all his help. Think I’ll give him his own pad of post-its. Ones that say “I Love You!” Or “Please Recycle”. One of those.
More later!
*As an aside, we had this big debate at work as to what constitutes a ‘fruit’ vs. a ‘vegetable’. One person said the biological definition is anything that can propagate another plant is a fruit. That would mean cucumbers, peas and pumpkins are all fruits. I much preferred Kane Citizens’ pronouncement that “Anything I like is a fruit. Anything I don’t is a vegetable’. Works for me.
No comments:
Post a Comment