What a title for a post, eh? But it fits how I feel. Here's my two stories for the day:
I had a day trip from DFW to SJC on Tuesday. I go out there every month as a part of my job, sometimes for day trips and at other times overnight. This month, due to work scheduling, I just went for the day.
My day started out at the crack of dawn at the airport, watching some fool of a father not know how to fold his kid's stroller to put it through the x-ray machine. Are you kidding me? It was one of those full-size travel system strollers. Surely the dude has folded it before...if not, I'd love to know what kind of car he drives that doesn't require collapsing the dang thing before it's stowed. Mr. Genius finally figured it out and we all were thankful.
Flash forward a half hour, and I'm uncomfortable ensconced in my darn middle seat on the plane. The perils of working for the airline and not getting a seat assignment until the last minute. Plane door to gate area closed. F/As making opening announcements. Captain comes on the PA to make his own: seems we have a bit of a mechanical problem that needs checking out - our fuel gauge is busted. We'll be outta here in 20-30 minutes. Cool.
Twenty to thirty minutes later, Captain comes back on the PA. There aren't any spare fuel gauges to be found...so we'll either change equipment (aka new plane) or they'll take a gauge off a plane in the hangar and give it to us. We'll be outta here in 20-30 minutes. Cool.
Can someone turn on the damn air conditioning? Man, this plane is uncomfortable at 1750 degrees. And the unaccompanied minor sitting next to me, for whom I have somehow become somewhat responsible, is playing with his BlackBerry. He's like 11. And it's actually his own BlackBerry. I've investigated the situation. It's his, alright. Brat. I try to use my blanket as a pillow and lean over to catch a nap while waiting for the next update, but my compressed torso area screams at me that that's a bad idea. Dang it for having a very short torso that's being compressed by an increasingly larger belly.
Twenty to thirty lifetimes later, Captain comes back on the PA. No other planes available. Can't rob a gauge off a parked plane to get us going. But no worries! The safety folks and the mechanic and the Captain have all agreed that they don't really need a working fuel gauge for us to fly. Despite the fact that I have sat on grounded planes in the past waiting for lightbulbs to be replaced in lavatories or clean coffee pots to be delivered for the galley, a fuel gauge is apparently an optional item. We just need to fill out some paperwork to show what's going on and we'll be outta here in 20-30 minutes. Cool.
Finally taking off, we're off to CA. Cool. No, really. The A/C is finally on. Still can't sleep. My ribs hate me. The kid's sleeping. Brat.
So there's fires in northern California. Like an hour or so north of San Jose. And the pilot pops the equalization valve between 10k and 8k while descending. And that leaves smoke/ash available to come in the valve. And Future Mommy is instantly sick. Fun times! Apparently, this former smoker has zero tolerance now for any form of smoke or soot.
Finally arrive at SJC, 15 minutes late for my meeting. The GM has gotten started without me, which is good since we'll be able to stay on time targets. I get set up and launch into my part of facilitating the meeting. It's a great bunch of people in a great city and the meeting, as always, goes well. YAY for San Jose! Inside the airport, away from soot and ash and smoke, I start feeling better...nose stops running so much, at least.
But then...there's an employee barbecue after the meeting. Outside. Which I must attend, as the token Headquarters person there. Sick again. Lucky me.
Surviving lunch and a polish sausage (not my favorite thing in the world to get down), I am back on my plane headed back to DFW. Uneventful ride home marred only slightly by Mother Nature and a slight delay in landing due to rain.
Hop on the shuttle to get back to my car. Only one on the shuttle. Talkative driver. I'm on hour 14 of my travels...I haven't seen my car in a very, very long time and I just want to get back to it. He asks me when my baby is due, telling me his wife is expecting, too. Asks me when. Asks me her name.
And then spends the next 10 minutes of the ride to my car ACTIVELY trying to talk me out of the name we've chosen for Bunny. WTF!?! He told me that I was being very disrespectful of my husband by not incorporating his name into the baby's name. He also let me know that I shouldn't get too attached to the thought of having a girl because God sometimes changes His mind at the last minute and sends a boy. Again, WTF?! I was very disgruntled when we got to my car. No tip for driver. MY baby. Back the hell off, buddy.
So I took my grouchy self home where sweet Future Daddy had soup waiting for me along with a warm bath. Future Daddy rocks. A bowl of soup and my first bath in months (I've been kind of afraid of the bathtub...not sure why...so it's been only showers in my world) and I collapsed into bed. Stopped feeling super ill as soon as we cleared SJC airspace, thank God. Just a stuffy/runny nose left.
So as you might have inferred from prior posts on the work going on in my house, nesting is going on in full force. Yeah, baby. So last night, it was organize the attic night. This involved dragging every single box OUT of the attic and into the back bedroom, investigating to see what was inside, and either taking out stuff we now deemed "necessary" or repackaging for storage. We even threw some stuff away! (We'd actually done this about six months ago, too, and threw a ton away then.) The big part of the evening was re-packing some of our holiday decoration stuff, since our shipment o'stuff from Mom's house included various holiday knickknacks. I'd really hate to tell you how many large plastic bins of Christmas stuff we have. Decorating takes a long time in my house. But we got it done.
We also accomplished getting randomly stored boxes out of the closets of the three upstairs bedrooms, consolidating and throwing away as necessary, and storing away in the attic. Yahoo for knocking several items off my to-do list at once.
I'm such a dang klutz. I was carrying a box of stuff into the attic. It's a walk-in attic, and a large one at that - covers half of the second floor of the house. In fact, the eventual plan is to finish it out (we have two other attics - one above the second floor and one above the garage) into a game room and office area. But for now, it's an attic. And like many attics, the floor is unfinished. Which means that boards can be, um, sporadically placed.
Well, my sporadically placed left foot missed a sporadically placed board. And I ended up getting my left foot and ankle wedged between two sporadically placed boards. Which caused me to fall. FD says I at least fell gracefully; I'm just thankful that I fell backwards onto my butt instead of forwards onto Bunny! But in the process of falling, I put a long scrape down the back of one knee, scraped a large portion of skin off the other knee, and got some other random scratches on the other leg. Can't really recreate how I feel, but I banged myself up pretty good. Ye-oww. FD had to shimmy a board around to get my foot unstuck. Ankle was already swollen from the prior day's travels...and now it's banged up besides.
Silly Future Mommy. I hate being a klutz. I don't know where it comes from...neither of my parents are klutzes. But me? Yeah, I'm awful.
So I'm mostly recovered from my smoky experience but now I have my banged up legs to deal with. Argh!!
So that's what's new with Future Mommy. I promise, pictures are coming. And a look at my insane to-do list. And various other stuff. All coming soon!!! Bear with me!!!