It’s a Dry Heat
When you select an early flight, you usually do it so far in advance that you forget you’ve done it. Then, days prior to the trip you take a look at think, “6:30 AM?!” Which is to say we got up at 3 AM. Not a single coffee shop near our home is open at 3 AM. I could have made coffee but this would have required a level of advanced planning possessed by a person who immediately knew their flight was at 630. A person who did laundry days in advance instead of one who was hastily cramming loads into the washer the night before the 630 AM flight. In my defense, I haven’t been home much this week. Which meant that I had to cram DOING ALL THE THINGS!!!! Into Friday night. Thing 1 was ironing new valances for the room at home that we call “the library”. I then realized that the tab at the top of the curtain was far to small for the new curtain rod. Which meant we had to rip a seam out which takes longer than you would imagine. Andrea tossed the old curtain rod down to me and I hastily tossed it onto the floor where she promptly stepped on it in her bare foot. She shrieked and I muttered an apology that did sound like it came from the mouth of a teenager. “Am I bleeding?” She asked, back up on the step ladder. I may have rolled my eyes thinking, “Oh for God’s sake - you’re not bleeding.” Instead I said, “Let me see. Lift your foot.” Her foot was bleeding. A lot. “Whoa! Jesus! Keep your foot up!” I instructed, fleeing the room to grab something to apply pressure to her foot. Keep your foot up turned out to be terrible advice. I don’t know what I was thinking when I said that. Maybe, “well. She won’t bleed on the step ladder.” I reentered the room and observed her foot dripping blood onto the area rug below. “OH MY GOD.” I said, pressing a paper towel to her foot and instructing her to put her foot down. I pressed paper towels into the carpet as well to sop up the mess, tossing them aside in a small heap. Andrea glanced down at the heap - I hadn’t meant for her to see that but I don’t do well with other people’s bodily fluids so I was probably taking a moment to dab my brow. “Peroxide will get blood out of the rug.” Andrea offered, still hanging the valance. The valances look great. Her foot? Meh. She banged that sucker up just in time to walk around Vegas and attend the HR conference. And? To get a pedicure on Saturday. Last night, I ushered the offending old, curtain rods out to the trash and as they went past, Andrea expressed relief that they “did not look rusty.” We finished packing, Andrea a bit more slowly and we went to bed too late for a 4 AM pick up. At 3:45, the guy was sitting in our driveway. “It’s the chatty guy who drove us home from the airport after our last trip.” Andrea announced. Fabulous. Andrea had hobbled off to a nearby gas station this morning for a bottled Starbucks drink but it didn’t pack the same punch as a real coffee which would have to wait until we got to the airport. Driven by Chatty McChattington (let’s call him CM for short). Buddy. It’s 4 A.EMMMM... We got on our flight and I watched a incredibly intense film called Giant Little Ones. Why do I always select the most intense and potentially tear inducing films to watch on a plane?! I’ll never learn. As we began flying above Nebraska, we encountered the type of turbulence that causes all the passengers to simultaneously draw in the breathe. I thought, “Jesus. Do not take me out over Nebraska!” I’m happy to report that my prayers were answered. Andrea had looked up the weather in the car while CM asked her, “Are you looking that up? If you can take a railway to Winslow, Arizona? Wasn’t that I an Eagles song?” You can and yes. The weather promises to be hot but hey! It’s a dry heat. Like an oven. Thankfully, we’d booked pedicures because that gave us access to laze about the spa until we could check in. The spa had cucumber slices and cold compresses. We put the cucumber slices on our eyes. I felt they got a little slimy as they warmed up and one slid off Andrea’s face. “I lost it.” She muttered, feeling around and shaking her towel. She removed the seat cushion and located the runaway slice in there. I laughed - imagining if she hadn’t found it. Once we finally checked into our room, I remarked, “Jeanette’s been gone 8 years as of today. It seems fitting we’re here - she loved Vegas.” “Wow. That means it’s 8 years since Wrigley got neutered.” Andrea said. I laughed - those two events forever intertwined. We’ll hit the strip later and do something appropriate to honor Jeanette. Nothing to do with neutering. That should go without saying and yet after the remark above, I feel I have to say it.