I’m so stressed about this whole trip. I wish we could just drive there. Hubby says we can’t; it’s an island. I say, Key West is an island and we can drive there. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
I’ve spent the entire day either biting my tongue so I don’t yell at the kids for something they don’t deserve to be yelled at about, or yelling at them. Last night, they did most of their packing. I just had them do 5 of everything. Then had them lay out their clothes for the journey, very comfy stuff, because I didn’t want them wearing it in the next couple of days, then Saturday morning at 6 asking me where the black sweatpants are. I also snuck one more change of clothes for each of them shirt, pants, and undies (can you call boy’s stuff undies? or is that just for girls?), and that I’m going to put in a carry-on somewhere so that if were stuck somewhere, or if someone spills something on themselves, or if someone pees, etc etc. Know what I need? A diaper bag. Ha.
Hubby was kind enough to stop at LYS and pick up some size 2 bamboo’s, as insurance. They weren’t as expensive as I thought they’d be, only $8. And it’s a set of 5. I’m used to 4, so I have insurance on that too. Now that I have those, I feel a lot more confident that my metals probably won’t be taken. Hope I didn’t just jinx myself there. When he came home, he was on the phone. So, he handed over the needles, and breezed on upstairs. I knew he had a conference call tonight, so I didn’t say anything, because I thought that was it. Then later on, I went upstairs to do something, and mouthed “Is that the conference call?” He says to the person he’s talking to, “OK, see you later. Bye.” So, now I’m instantly pissed off. I purposely didn’t say anything because I thought it was some “important” call, and didn’t want to be rude, and wait a minute… “SEE you later?” SEE??? What’s that? Now where is he going? I ask, and he means he’ll see the person on the conference call, and now that he’s done, he has time to give me a hug. I say forget it, I don’t have time now. I have things to do. And I storm out. Like I’m supposed to just be the patient wife and wait around until he had time for me. But he brought me needles. Maybe he should have brought me that alpaca sock yarn too.
Is it just me, or do I seriously need some Prozac? Or a beer?