My vacation curse has stuck again. Over the years, no one has escaped unscathed when I bust out of the state. On one notable occasion, it was my grandmother. My weekend trip to Boston did that poor woman in; I got back just in time to hold her hand while she took her last breath. And of course, I have felt guilty ever since because of that 30 minute detour I took to find a Starbucks in Connecticuit. Sorry grandma. I know you were holding on for me, but I really needed a soy mocha latte (no whip).
On two other occasions, it was various parts of my car. On another, it was floods and rocky mountain spotted fever, on another, expired insurance prevented us leaving the state and exploring Arches National Park... When I went to Costa Rica two years ago, it was my cat. I let that bastard out the night before I left because he always comes home. Always. Except when I'm leaving the country, of course. We didn't find him until almost a week after I got back; he'd lost 3 or 4 pounds and was an absolutely mess. Where did I find him, you ask? In the bushes in the backyard. But only after I had spent an entire afternoon putting out flyers and visiting every single SPCA within a 40 mile radius. I guess Leroy made out better than Grandma though, so maybe things are getting better.
But no. Several weeks after we booked our ticket, I started hearing about all the violence and kidnapping in Mexico; but it was just near the border town. Then I heard it was spreading. Then I heard about some beheading, and a tragic bus accident. And to think, I clicked "no" when Travelocity asked me if I wanted trip insurance. D'oh! Luckily, I have ransom all lined up should I need it, so I'm feeling a little better about that.
What I'm not feeling better about: The Stupid Cats. Leroy got in a big, fat cat fight last night and his back leg is swollen up like a balloon. He can hardly get to his food bowl. Arlo has taken to pooping on the living room carpet, and last night, looked at me and peed in my kayak equipment bag. "This is for locking me out of your room last night. Bitch." I have this tremendous fear and stress that Leroy will get some infection and Arlo's kidneys will kill him as I am sipping on my Corona, totally unawares. Honestly, I'm not so stressed out about them keeling over (sometimes, that would make life so much simpler) as I am about the stress it could cause K who has agreed to take care of them for me. K, the very same person that searched and searched for Leroy while I was in Costa Rica... Leroy goes to the vet early tomorrow and hopefully will check out ok. If not, K is going to run away screaming.
Meanwhile, bills, taxes and homework all be done before I skip town. Plus, I have no more free nights this week (and the one I do have, I'm wasting writing the longest blog entry ever). I know that it is very important to go away on vacation and I really am looking forward to it (I think). But the stress! Good lord. I'm positively manic right now. But I know that all the stress will go away as soon as the airplane lifts off.
Anyone notice the marked increase in airplane disasters recently?