On the Road or FML
The past week has been stressful getting ready for our road trip to Hilton Head, SC, about 900 miles from my house. Two years ago we drove to Kentucky to see Megan and baby Randy after he was born, and I swore I would not spend that much time in a car again. But we were offered a bungalow on a lagoon on an island, so how could I turn it down?
A few days before we left, as I was packing and doing the 10,000 things that had to be done,I exploded to a D cup, and could not move without pain. I started having cramps. Headaches. And cranky? I bulldogged my way through the day, feeling lucky that no one got hurt. Maybe it was a false alarm. I have had them before, in fact so badly that I marched into my doctors office demanding a pregnancy test, to the laughter of the staff. My doc told me that she was going to start a new religion and worship me if I was pregnant.
The morning we left I got my period. "Fuck My Life", I muttered to myself. Seven months without it, and I thought that finally menopause was well under way. Five more months and I was going to have my celebratory Crone party.
Needless to say, Larry is lucky to have survived the drive. The Garmin took the brunt of my anger when I punched it off its perch in a moment of frustration over not finding the hotel we were looking for. "Fucking piece of shit" I muttered. I had come off of spending four hours outside of Washington DC (at 2:30, not rush hour) going 20 miles. I was in Richmond Virginia, and needed to sleep. I felt sick and had been in the car for 12 hours. My back was not happy, and neither was my front for that matter.
The hotel, a Quality Inn, cost far more than it was worth. Stains on the wall, a sink that did not work. It smelled. I sent Larry went to the lobby he told them that his wife wanted a working sink. The maintenance guy replied "oh, I can fix it, but it is probably going to take me a half hour or so". Larry replied, "Oh, I don't think that is a good idea. She might kill someone and it will probably be me, although it could be you too". The man's mouth made a big O and his eyes got huge. The clerk offered us another room
At 10 PM I was moving luggage muttering "fuck my life" again. It would serve them right if I bleed all over the rug, I thought to myself.
The room had two double beds instead of queens. Looking at the smaller bed, I decided that it was not safe for Larry to share one with me. I made him sleep in one, and I in the other. I don't think in the 16 years of our relationship that we have ever done that. I figured if is was to last another 16 years, it was a good idea.
Then someone moved in the room above us, with a troupe of what I believe to be monkeys which jumped on the bed and on the floor for an hour. FML was my mantra again.
We both tossed and turned all night and napped for 7 hours before 6 am came and we had to do another day of driving. When we got to the lobby, the same clerk was there and said: "Mrs. G, your husband is so funny". I shot a glance at him, and replied: "he'd better be funny if he is going to survive another 8 hours in the car".
We laughed at it, and over that 8 hours I experienced a slight ebb in my urge to kill, probably due to the pain pills I took for my cramps.
We have arrived here in Hilton Head, the weather forecast shows that it is going to rain the entire time. At 10:30 in the morning I am hearing the rumble of thunder, which does not bode well for the day. However, Savannah is only 45 minutes away, I am sure there are places we can go. I have a stack of movies, a few books, my watercolors, my computer, a few bottles of wine and a bottle of Pinnacle. Besides, I am not ready to put on a bathing suit yet, and hope that the cramps leave soon.
Off to the Weatherunderground, where I will track the incoming storms, and hope I am not on the radar.