Fuck, Fuck, Fuckitty-fuck….
I think you get the picture. If I would have had more time in the messed-uppedness that was the week before our trip, I would have posted something a lot like that. However, I am just now getting around to it, so that you, my cherished reader can fully appreciate what I enjoyed the week before the trip.
At work, I was told that I would have to switch departments, and would get to head up that department’s remodel…even though I would be out-of-town for the bulk of it. This meant coming in at 8 on Sunday, and 6 Monday and Tuesday. That’s am, kids. As in I’m usually not out of the coffin yet for fear I will burst into flames. However, I made it in at 8 on Sunday, and tried to take advantage of getting off early, and getting to cross some things off the old to-do list. It turned out to not be a lot off the to-do list, but we got a couple fo things done, including dinner at Chevy’s with a cantaloupe margarita (sooo delicious). Then Monday rolls around. I am ready and leaving for work…on time, mind you, just not early. I stumble out to my car, in the still-dark morning, and unlock the door. I open the driver’s side door, and am about to toss my purse on the passenger seat, as is my usual routine. Until I realize that the passenger seat is full of broken glass. And my radio is gone. Fuck. I turn around, grumbling (at least this time they actually took the radio, instead of making my car miserable to drive during a snowstorm), and stumble back into the house, where I wake up G (who still has another hour to sleep) to ask him if we can trade cars so I can not be too late for work, and he can do the police crap and maybe have someone come out and fix the window.
Tuesday, I have roughly a billionty things to do. Another ass-crack of dawn morning, followed by getting my hair done (which if my manager could have gotten the scheules out on time, I could have done a week or two earlier, at least), and an audition. I got to my hair appointment a few minutes early, find a prime parking spot, only to find the meter doesn’t want to register time for one’s quarters. I decide to screw it, and leave my car there, and hope for the best. I get my hair done, hop in the car, and realize I will be cutting it close, but should be okay (and thank the gods for no parking ticket). Except that I get behind two consectutive people who neitherr know where they are going, nor how to drive. Combine that with a shit-ton of road construction, and I quickly realize I am fucked. I call G, since that is the only number I’ve got, and see if he can find numbers for anyone related to the theater to call and tell them what’s going on. Of course there is no number for a human being available, so I figure at least I should show up, even if it is late. I get home a few minutes after I am supposed to be at the theater, and do the world’s fastest clothes change and resume grab in the history of the world. I squeal into the theatre at the exact time my audition is supposed to start, just narrowly keeping my anxiety from creeping into hyperventilation. Fortunately, all I missed was the director’s intro. I wasn’t expecting to get cast, and basically was doing the audition as practice, and to be seen. Being late clinched the not getting cast, I’m sure, but fuck-it. I’d busted my ass to get there, I may as well give it my all. Which, I think I had a pretty decent reading, especially considering the other people in my group. So, I left, pausing to chat, and in the car on the way home, I was able to finally get enough air into my lungs.
Wednesday was just a usual day of double heading one job into the other…the only real clincher was that I discovered the shoes I bought mainly for the trip killed my feet. I mean, they hurt worse than any of the spike heels I own. So, throw another item on the to-do list, return shoes from hell, and get slightly less stylish but infinitely more comfortable second-choice shoes. The kicker came when I woke up with G on Thursday…earlier than I needed to be up for work. However, it was lucky I woke up when I did, because my throat hurt like a mutha. I could barely squeak out talking, and it hurt to swallow. My ears hurt and were crackling every time I moved my jaw. There was no way I could work, and since I got up extra early, I was up in enough time to call in. Fuck, because I didn’t think I had any sick time to use right then, and I was pushing the envelope on my vacay….not to mention that I’m sure they thought I was lying so I could have an extra day to get ready. But, there it was, not much I could do about it. So, I popped a bunch of Ibuprofen to try and dull the pain, and spent nearly the whole day in bed. So much for going to work, and getting my errands done after. I did get the devil shoes exchanged, though, thanks to G driving me. And I had a yummy slightly late dinner with G, Toni and her guy, so we could get the carger cord for the Game Boy they were loaning us. It hurt to talk, but it was nice to see them before we left.
Friday was pretty mundane…but I will tell you that flying with any sort of ENT thing SUCKS. I never have ear trouble when flying, and my right ear, especially was seriously painful, not to mention that I was having a hard time popping my ears because I couldn’t really swallow or blow very well. That came out all wrong, but there it is. Anyhow, G did get non-gelcap Ibuprofen to make the flight at least tolerable, and I did manage to sleep…but it still sucked. By the time we got to the hotel on Saturday, I just wanted to lay down. G went to the pharmacie and got me some French drugs. i’m not entirely sure what was in them, but I chugged the cough syrup, choked down the pills, took some more ibuprofen, and told Geoff to call an ambulance if it seemed like I was ODing. I made it through the night, only moderately dissappointed with myself for wasting a perfectly good day in Europe.
So there it is, my post-trip recap of my pre-trip countdown.