I ran out of town Saturday morning for a quick trip down to LA, and it was such a ridiculous comedy of errors I’m afraid to leave my house unless the world has more in store for me.
Bear’s parents live in Orange County, and we have a Prius so gas is crazy cheap, so it doesn’t take much to get me down to Southern California. From our time down there we have loads of friends and family, and I always have one work thing or another. So when a friend invited me down to record a podcast with her, I made the trip. I figured Atti would get grandparent time, I’d fill the weekend up with fun stuff, it would be a great time.
And then Thursday I got sick AGAIN with this dang cold/flu thing that won’t leave any of us alone. My second time so far this year, which is apparently not at all uncommon. We’ve been trying to schedule this recording for ages so once I had an actual date pinned down I didn’t dare cancel. I figured I’d feel better by Saturday so I forged ahead. Except I didn’t really feel better by Saturday, but I had been sick long enough that I didn’t have to worry about contagion unless I was french kissing people, so I decided to tough it out, load up on cold medicine, and not miss out on my fun weekend.
Atti and I got a late start out of town, what with me feeling so crappy, but he’s such a great travel companion that we made great time anyway. It’s usually about a five hour drive, so we stopped for a potty break and a quick lunch at McDonald’s, which is not such a small feat by yourself with an unmobile 5 year old and a wheelchair packed up in pieces, and then back on the road until late in the afternoon when it was time to take my cold medicine again. Bear had loaded the car with my medicine where I couldn’t reach it, so I pulled off the freeway and just stopped at an off ramp to dig it out.
I walked around to the passenger side of the car and discovered that the exact spot I managed to pull over forced me to straddle an enormous dead roadkill squirrel. I don’t even know if it was a squirrel because it was huge. It was as long as the car door. It was like a huge possum with a fuzzy tail and long rodent teeth. I had to stand there with one foot on either side of this thing, holding my breath, digging for my medicine, while it was inches from my child. It smelled like rotting fish bones.
That ordeal over I continued on my trip, only to get stuck in monster LA traffic. I had planned a super fun outing with my friend Serena, tagging along as she went to posh gallery openings and then to dinner with all her artist friends, and I missed the whole thing while cursing bumper to bumper traffic.
Seven hours from when I left the house I made it to my inlaws and they took us to dinner, but insisted on their favorite burger place. Which made Atti flip out because he had decided he had to have beans and rice. So while we’re trying to eat our delicious burgers, Atti’s screaming and snotting and I’m having to put him in time out while the whole restaurant watches.
We get back to the house, I take a nyquil and pass out at 7:30. I woke up briefly at midnight to an email from my podcasting friend: she was sick. When I woke up in the morning there was another email from her, guilty and apologetic, and seriously seriously sick, explaining she had a major meeting the next day to prepare for. Nothing could be done. I decided to let Atti go to church with grandma so at least they could enjoy the trip, and then we’d leave.
His church pants had the button missing. I had to send him to church safety pinned.
Still sick and mad at the world we load up in the car to drive back home. I got a speeding ticket for doing 82 in a 65.
I’m hoping that I just banked a whole lot of karma points and I things will all go my way for a while. Or else I won’t be leaving my house for a long long time.