Touched by the Hand of God

I never in my entire life thought I would say this, but things went astonishingly perfectly.

You don’t understand, this DOESN’T HAPPEN TO ME. I’m the one that has movers that show up 11 hours and 9 days late and charge me thousands of dollars because they didn’t notice that my house has stairs. I’m the one that gets stranded in nine different states, making wrong turns every other exit, and adding four days and 15 hours to the trip, combined with five flat tires and a side trip to an emergency room because of a surprise UTI. Toothless crazy people flock to me, and I spend most of my evenings in terror that some lunatic from Falling Springs, Virginia in the shack that sells peaches thought I had nice hair and wanted to get a closer look at the shade of it in my hotel room, so he followed me home.

But none of those things happened, I am almost sorry to report. PERFECT. The drive was perfect. Katrina threw a wrench in it, but it was a welcome distraction – we spent an extra day in a resort in Charleston lolling around our hotel room, watching movies and snuggling with the Snapper.

The Snapper. Let me say that pets make everything better – EVERYTHING. The hotels felt homey because of his furry little presence and sweet mews. He screamed in the car for about two hours of each day, but eventually, he ACTUALLY STOPPED and allowed us to listen to soothing books on tape.

I’m a little disappointed, actually. I mean, I didn’t want four days of pure squalor and misery, but I wanted SOMETHING to write about. What fun is writing about joy and happiness and PERFECT DRIVING WEATHER? I’d hate me if I were reading this – who deserves such things?

In other news, I had no idea that happiness – pure, unadulterated HAPPINESS – could come from a house in the suburbs with a laundry room big enough to dance around in, with my very own – YES! – washer and dryer. I have practically humped the pair of them in sheer ecstasy, and if I had known that this and only this was the key to fulfillment in life, I would have bought my own ages ago, and moved them from apartment to apartment in a nomadic washing spree.

You think I’m kidding. I’m not. I have done 14 loads of laundry in two days, and have spent countless hours blissfully cleaning the lint tray and lovingly counting the hundreds of combinations of washing and drying cycles available at my disposal. If Adam can’t find me, he knows I am in the laundry room, probably French kissing the washing machine and getting high off of the fumes of my Tide Clean Breeze (with a touch of Downy!).

Tomorrow, I go back to work. In my HOME OFFICE. Pants and even underwear are optional because NO ONE WILL SEE ME. I have yet another zit between my freaking eyebrows and I do not care because again, NO ONE WILL SEE ME BECAUSE I WORK FROM HOME!

I don’t deserve this, you know. I’m not just saying this. I’m honestly humbled.

12 comments August 30th, 2005