Caterwauling

Well, I did it.

I’m getting out of town, damn it.

Hell yeah!

I’ve had a really good week. Sure, I worked 40 hours in three days, but what else is new? But for every excruciatingly annoying moment, there was a pleasant one and an awesome one. So, win!

It doesn’t kill much of my vacation time, but the fund is pretty exhausted. Humph. Damn gas prices. Just filled up for $4.23 a gallon. *kicks the oil speculators*

I was having buyer’s remorse yesterday as I talked with my travel agent and kept repeating, “How much?” every time she gave me a hotel or a flight price. This is a business/personal trip, so at least the airfare’s taken care of. *whew* So I felt a little justified in splurging for the four-star hotel for “my” portion of the stay, since I oftentimes stay outside the city limits and spend the extra money to cab it everywhere.

Besides, I hear it’s going to rain the whole time I’m there (joy), so at least I’ll have access to a spa and room service. So if that’s the extent of my vacation? I won’t be mad at that.

What’s funny is how I keep hearing that we’re in an economic downturn (or is it a recession) and nobody’s traveling. Really? I couldn’t find an available hotel room or an empty seat on a flight to save my life. It’s pretty bad when it would cost the same to book on Expedia as it does to call an agent. The good part about booking through a live person, however, is that I can actually cancel or modify my itinerary and I don’t have to forfeit my life savings.

Now, the real trick will be seeing whether I can keep up my newfound vegetarianism when I’m out and about. It’s funny — I gave up meat a few weeks ago and I find I don’t miss it that much. I had to “cheat” because I got home from work at 10:30 p.m. on Thursday and all I had was a lousy Lean Cuisine in the freezer, and it was terrible. I don’t know if it was just the fact that it was a flavorless frozen dinner (I tried spicing it up) but bleah, it wasn’t so awesome.

Anyway, speaking of not so awesome, I’ve been cleaning all morning. It’s the first holiday I haven’t worked in probably a decade, so I had to do something with myself. It’s debatable whether I will attend any Fourth of July festivities as we have daily thunderstorms and another one is being predicted for tonight. And if there’s one thing I hate more than people crowds, it’s being rained on.

Why is it the one holiday in which I don’t have to wake up and go to work the next day has the crummiest weather on the docket?

So, I haven’t bought shampoo in about four months. The one new year’s resolution I made (because I can stick to it) is to start using the basket filled with mini shampoos, conditioners and lotions that I’ve taken as souvenirs of various hotel stays.

Today, I used my Marriott Marquis products. It’s funny how you get a whiff of a familiar scent, and suddenly you’re transported to the heart of New York City. That’s my favorite place to go, mostly because it’s the most expensive price and the least amount of space, but you have the whole city waiting for you with just a short walk and/or a taxi ride.

I remember going to Serendipity for frozen hot cocoa (packets, anyway — the wait for a frozen hot chocolate was 2 1/2 hours!). I also remember standing on the street with my friends outside Thalia’s restaurant.

And I *should* remember the night we went to Mesa Grill and I got railroaded by sidecars in the 8th floor lounge at the Marquis, but I don’t recall much past wandering the streets with my friends and my camera and insisting that I simply MUST get a picture of Bear Stearns and Lehman Bros. (You know, those brokerages in the news these days. Go figure.)

Anyway, I had honestly forgotten where my latest shampoo/conditioner set had come from, as I didn’t recognize the Nirvae product line. But from the moment I stepped in the shower, I knew where I was the last time I’d inhaled these scents. I remember the people, the foods, the drinks, the stories … especially the ones NOT fit for print.

I’m in a New York state of mind today. If there were anywhere I would want to be right this very moment (other than a beach), it’d be there. So hey, anyone who messes with my state of mind? Fuck you!

Happy 6th anniversary to this blog, give or take. I can’t remember the exact date I started it. But it’s been a wild half-plus decade — this space has kept me from killing those who might have deserved it and yet made me want to suffocate some others in their sleep.

I notice that, as my friends get busier, they blog less. And I always thought, nah, I’ll find something to write about every day. And I try to. Even if it’s insignificant, it means something to me when I commit it to Wordpress.

I realize that, the busier I am, the more I want to blog but the less able I am to do it. Like, I cannot manage to put together a succinct list of what’s happening here in the Potomac promenade that is Washington, D.C., but I assure you, I could write 50 blog entries on the past three days alone.

One thing I can say is that it’s the first year in about three that I haven’t moved. But I may still — I’m getting screwed on a rent increase anyway, and because these bastards will not give me my lease (but will leave notes and voicemails daily to come in and sign the fucking thing), I am in jeopardy of going month-to-month at an even-higher rate.

I did stop in the office today to ask for the damn lease already. (I had a laundry list of complaints for them to address — no time like when I’m committing to give them $18,000 over the next 12 months.)

Good God, that was my annual salary right before I started this blog. Now it’s my annual rent. Shit. Just goes to show that you can make more money, but your expenses increase incrementally so you’re never really as well-off as you think you SHOULD be.

Anyway, back to this place. The management-office monkey said he wasn’t ALLOWED to print out my lease … that only the manager could give it to me but she wasn’t going to be in for another two hours.

Pfft.

I said fine, you can have her slide it under my door. She left me a message today, but screw her — maybe it’s a sign to just take the monthly deal so I can hightail it on a whim if need be. And trust me, I expect this whim shall hit sooner rather than later. Besides, I rather enjoy being a moving target — it means I can’t be too much of a pack rat, if nothing else.

Boy, I wasn’t kidding when I said I blog about the insignificant! But it’s mine, all mine.

I’ve been having a bizarre load of deja vu today. There are always certain occurrences that prompt it, like the universe is telling me I’m “getting warmer” to where I’m supposed to be. It’s amazing to be feeling and not (just) thinking. I could get used to this.

You know, I don’t mind it as much when it’s my paying customers who cough, barf and snarf all over me, but when it’s the a-holes who think we are put on the planet for them to entertain, molest and/or listen to their life stories over and OVER again who do it whilst coughing all over me, I get a twee bit testy.

Otherwise, the meetings went great. It serves as a reminder of what our customers want and need, and it’s one of those times when all the corporate divisions mix and mingle, so everyone’s put their agendas down and we pull together as a team and bond as well as cooperate. It’s a glorious thing, one that I always hope will continue when we go back to the digital salt mines.

Anyway, clearly I’m home, I’ve got a bit of a cold and my feet are still swelled, with the left one still looking like something out of a Foo Fighters video. I had to buy Crocs in a size 10 to fit over it — my feet are an 8 1/2 on a good day — and they’re still tight. Le sigh.

I rolled in late Friday night to see my mom waiting at the door. I walked past her and went straight to my room for the next 24 hours. She was so excited to see me. And I burst straight into tears that this is my life, and welcome back to it. Last year, I admit I hoped for someone to come along to love me. I guess I should have been a lot more specific because this is SO not what I had in mind.

But I’ve always said 34 is going to be “my year.” And here I am, three months away from that so-called magical era, and I am not giving up on that dream. I spent a lot of time with myself this past week, and the thing is, I like the “me” who has gone into hibernation. I’m not overly fond of the current incarnation, though.

I mean, you can always break up with someone who isn’t meeting your needs or if you just don’t love them anymore, but how do you disassociate with family and self if they’re driving you bugshit nuts?

I know, there’s some lesson I need to learn in all of this. But why does every moment of life have to be some sort of teachable moment? Why can’t I go away and chaos not erupt, and why can’t I come back and not feel like I’m stepping into a bear trap and that I’m going to be dangling upside-down over an alligator pond with my foot ensconced in the metal jaws until I can figure out how to gnaw my way back to freedom?

In any event, I suppose it’s Lent. I’d like to give up on all the offers I’m getting from ProFlowers and Hallmark and 1-800-Flowers.com. Any girl who claims she isn’t into flowers is lying. I personally hate the smell of them because they remind me of funeral homes, but honestly? I abhor their absence even more. All this holiday does is serve to remind me that I’m not “there” yet and to stoke the fear that I may never be.

Funny, that. The girl who just wants some goddamned personal space really wouldn’t mind sharing it with someone after all. But how many more tests do I have to go through with situations I DO NOT WANT before I get to the ones I would possibly like very much?

I’m fortunate enough to get to do some traveling throughout the year, and now that I live in a “big city,” I realize how small the world has become.

When I stepped on my first airplane 15 years ago (ironically, to come to the same city I’m in), it really was like landing on a different planet. There were so many things to see and do — so many stores and restaurants that just weren’t available to me at home. The travel bug had bitten me.

These days, I’m rolling through stores and thinking, meh, I’ll order it online. Suitcase space is at a premium because, unlike the old days, I’ve got to accommodate a laptop, camera, iPhone, and chargers for each. Hell, electronics get their own suitcase. But that’s the good thing about it — I can find a Disney store at my local mall and online. Sure, perhaps the cutest stuff is in the theme park shops, but if I go home and wish I’d gotten something, I *can* get it.

And when I get hungry, again it’s like “meh.” I try to look for things that I can’t get at home. Not that I go to the Planet Hollywoods and Hard Rock Cafes of the world by choice, but I COULD if I wantetd to. Instead, I chose to eat at Tutto Italia in Epcot’s World Showcase and have the best glass of wine a girl could enjoy there. (Incidentally, everyone in the Italy section of Epcot’s World Market is required to speak with an Italian accent. Even the Asian waiter. Talk about being in character.)

My hotel has a stunning view of Sizzler, Shoney’s, IHOP and Waffle House. Now, most aren’t available to me at home, but I don’t really care about those. I just hope that folks don’t arrive here from Idaho and think *wow* that must be some good Southern eatin’! (I admit I did partake of the Waffle House — I call it the colonic of the South, although that was yesterday and I’m still waitin’.)

I once thought this city was too big, too fast, too unfriendly. Now I’m used to it. Six-lane highways don’t bother me anymore. I’m impatient now, too. I’ve had more than one hotel worker ask me if I’m from New York. (Was it my awesome matching luggage in a color other than black or the fact that I abhor INVISIBLE COMPETENCE?

Y’all might have heard my rent check bouncing in D.C. as I decided to go on an unbudgeted theme park extravaganza. I did Epcot, Universal Studios and Islands of Adventure. I’m not a theme-park girl but hey, it beats working.

What’s also different now is that if I want to do something, I do it. I think I did my last Orlando adventure for about $400 — and that was saving up for several months because I made four bucks an hour. This trip was a total whim and I spent that much on the hotel before I even got here. No doubt I’ve spent that much on cabs and theme park tickets, too.

But the film on France at Epcot made it worth it. (The usher was awesome — in his fake French accent, he wished us “Buenos Noches” as we exited the theater. Hah!)

Last night, dinner was at Universal’s City Walk. And yes, I’m 8 years old and say “Shitty Wok” like they do on “South Park” every time I see a sign for it. Heh. I was between Jimmy Buffett’s Margaritaville or Bubba Gump’s Shrimp. Co. I opted for Bubba Gump because the drink menu was better, oddly enough.

It’s good to be a grown-up; I mean, I’ll be doing some VERY creative financing to recover from this trip, but at least I can. I figure, I’ve been pretty unhappy for the past five months, and not spending if I didn’t need to. This week? I needed to!

But no good times go unpunished, unfortunately. I managed to twist my ankle somewhere in there too, which is awesome because I have to wear heels for the rest of the trip. ARGH.

My foot is swollen and I had to take off my toe ring (I can’t find where I threw it, either.) I had to break down and buy a pair of Crocs, those ugly motherfuckers, and let me tell you — those are the most comfortable shoes I have ever owned. Of course I paid premium Disney prices for them, but insofar as souvenirs go, getting the feeling back into the bottom of my feet is a win. Unfortunately, that feeling is PAIN, but if I can wait till I get back to D.C. to seek medical attention, I suppose I will live.

I must have walked 40 miles in a brigade of boots, flip-flops, cheap Wal-Mart sneakers and now finally mah Crocs. My grandmother used to insist on buying good shoes, but I became the poor man’s Imelda Marcos and if there were no Payless or DSW, I’d never be able to afford them. But for saying I own about 120 pairs, I cannot name one that makes me look AND feel good. Perhaps Gram was on to something after all — she always said you can always buy new shoes, but you can’t buy new arches. I get it now. After this trip, where I’m ready to cut off my feet at the ankle, her advice finally makes sense.

Anyway, the fun ends first thing tomorrow. I’m doing some laundry now (who the fuck doesn’t put a change machine in the laundry room? I had to cart my gutchies and laptop around the hotel to find someone who could give me five bucks in quarters!) and am hoping for the best for the rest of the week.

But at least I had a couple of days of sun and fun and good food. And I’m not allowed to complain about going back to being overworked, because that’s what’s going to pay for this epic adventure after all.