Here’s my New Year’s Resolution: no more air travel unless it’s a first-class flight and the person next to me is really interesting or asleep. And no flights in December.
Today has not been a good day, which I hope means my travel will be the polar opposite. I went to the Westwood Post Office with my sister’s 70 lb. box o’ computer and not only did I have to deal with stupid people standing in front of the door while I tried to wheel the dolly in, no one helped me when I stood there like an idiot hoisting up the behemoth onto the counter scale. Because I have no upper body strength, the box was suspended in mid-air until another postal worker could help me lift. And when the woman at the counter finally saw it, she said, “Sorry, it’s oversized. You’ll have to break it down or use UPS.”
I couldn’t use UPS because it was going to SAIPAN. No effing Merry Christmas to you, stupid postal worker who didn’t want to take my prepaid postage or reasoning that I already calculated the height-width-volume online and the website didn’t say anything about it being oversized.
What’s worse is that I cut myself shaving my legs and now I know I’ll get stopped by a TSA agent and they’ll quarantine me because I look like I have leg herpes. You know it’s going to happen.
And someone had better call the waambulance because Nathan became sick today. Of all the hip-hop-until-you-don’t-stop times to get sick, why now? Why? Because congested babies on planes are so much better than snakes! Samuel L. Jackson’s tagline should’ve had congested babies instead of mofo-snakes. Why doesn’t anyone ever consult me about these things? I have some idears, tell you what.
It’s almost 1:30 A.M. and I just finished packing Nathan’s things. But my luggage is empty. Maybe I’ll add that to the baggage I already have, which is crammed with my dashed dreams of becoming Little Miss CNMI (My eight-year-old heart broke after hearing, “Sorry Mona, but you need all your teeth to compete in this one and your silver caps don’t count.”) and my failed attempts to lose weight via Carmen Electra’s Striptease Aerobics. That venture fizzled after I found out that if you stand on the street you can totally see into my house.
If the neighbors moved here for the view, they’re asking for refunds now.
I need positive thoughts, my internet peeps. Wish me luck.
WTF update: I can’t find the 4th rechargeable battery I need for my camera. And I need all four to juice them up. Stupid Duracell. It’s a battery, not the other half of the golden amulet. I just want to take pictures, not open the gate to Mordor.