As in, I have the fantods. I am anxious and jumpy and irritable. This trip to California is making me nuts. I knew Mark relied on me to make life function but until this trip I did not realize how much. Neither did he. We knew months ago about the trip. I occasionally asked about the arrangements and he assured me all was being taken care of. As we did not have ticket confirmation, room reservations or registration info for the conference I was dubious, and said so. He said I was a control freak and could not relax and let someone else take charge. This is a too true observation so I attempted to forget about it. Yet still something niggled at me.
I do not want to take this trip. I don't want to spend the money and I am fat. I will be fat and broke in the vacation paradise of the tanned and thin. I do not have any summer clothes that fit and I don't want to spend money on more. The clothes I do have are just dumb. Stacy and Clinton would have a hay day with me. Peg legged elastic waist jeans and plaid camp shirts. And big ole sneakers. And a sweater jacket with lawn chairs printed all over it. (I look like some one's grandmother.) And I have to stuff all of this in a suitcase the size of a breadbox. So I am anxious. On Tuesday to calm myself down I began inquiring in earnest about "the plans." You guessed it. Mark had relied on someone else to make all the arrangements. And she didn't. He was not registered for the conference, had no room reservations and no plane tickets.
After many panicked preparations and much money agony we now have very expensive plane seats...in which we cannot even sit together. He is in the front and I am in the back in the middle. As I haven't flown in 17 years and am worried about all the changes, not the least of which is the seat belt fitting, this just pisses me off royal. Instead of flying out of Jackson (close) we have to drive all the way to Salt Lake (far) and stay all night (expensive). Of course the Marriott and Hilton where the conference is being held are full so we are staying three "city blocks" away in some hotel I have never heard of. I has been years but as I remember "city blocks" are much larger than our small town blocks. Mark will have to leave well before 8am and won't arrive back at the hotel until after 5pm, leaving me marooned in there for eight solid hours. We can't even eat together at noon because all the seminars he was planning to attend are jam packed. The only open ones are during the lunch hours. I was going on this trip so we could spend some time together. The conference was presented to me as having a lot of open spaces in which we could sight see. Not. He might as well be at work. I am so mad I could spit. I am not a sit around the pool kind of a gal, if this new place even has a pool. I DO NOT want to spend eight hours in a high rise hotel room with no egress to the outside. I do not have the money to go shopping, or get spa treatments, or do much sight seeing. What the heck am I going to do for five days?
By the by, I can't stop eating. I was down to 193 then came the news about the non-registration and I promptly went back up to 199. I do mean promptly. I have gained five pounds in the past three days. sigh
Why don't I just stay home you ask? Let Mark stew alone in his self induced mess? Because he wants me to go. Really wants me to go. He says he will eat beans when we get home and will wear ragged clothes and ride his bike to work. But please won't I go. It's no fun without me. PHOOEY.
Helen prepare yourself, I'm coming. I will be the nervous plaid grandmother who looks madder than a wet hen. Phooey.