It's one of those things that inevitably happens, no matter what kind of mental and physical acrobatics I try to prevent it, the very second the vacation ends, real life comes crushing down, squishing every molecule of oxygen out of my wee little body.
The airport: Due to the world's crappiest handicapped assistance, I missed my flight. 45 minutes between flights should have been plenty, but not for U.S. Air. Instead of the typical routine (guy meets you at the plane, pushes you in wheelchair to gate, gets a nice tip, everyone is happy, takes all of 10 minutes to complete the transaction) they had those glorified golfcarts ("no tips accepted" printed over and over on the sides, dammit! How am I supposed to bribe people under these circumstances?) that are always squealing their way through the corridors. Sure, they *look* like they'd get you there faster than walking, but not after they make everyone switch cars 3-5 times (keep in mind that we're all handicapped and consequently we're slow as molasses getting from car a to car b and for some reason they have to take detailed notes on every passenger after they're settled, apparently doing some sort of detailed algebra judging by how long it took.) I tried to very politely (I've worked in service and retail. I go to great lengths not to be a bitch to people trying to do their jobs.) point out that I only had 2o, then 10, then 5 minutes till my flight left without me when...my flight left without me. Arrgh. At least it gave me time to get a vegan latte on the house, but still. I'm tired, I'm in pain, and I want to go home. Not a good start.
When I did get home, I got a few hours of sleep before Fuz started bleeding. My poor little girl, one of the rat family I adopted a year or two ago, was having a uterine prolapse. I've been up all night for two nights now, first taking her to the emergency vet at midnight, then to her regular vet in the morning (thank you Scott!) then back home (I was up almost all night worried that if I didn't check on her throughout the night, she might prolapse again and suffer for hours before anyone woke up) then back to the vet again this morning. She went into surgery this afternoon, with plans to remove the mass that was pushing everything out. We agreed that if it couldn't be removed, she would not be woken up after surgery. They just called a couple of hours ago and said we can pick her up this evening. Whew! Little Fuz has been through quite the ordeal. She's coming home with pain meds and we're setting up a sick bay cage. I'm sure Kitty and Spider (her aunt and sister, respectively) aren't happy that she's disappeared, especially since Glitter never returned and Twinkle only came back long enough to die. They seem to be hiding in their igloo nearly all the time. It has to be nervewracking to have to wait and wonder. They saw her as she was prolapsing, so they had to know something was up. Still, I always think how they must feel, watching us take her away.
This weekend, my sister in law is coming along with my nephews, 2 and 6, so frantic cleaning has ensued. Kate, my princess of housecleaning and pet sitting generously squeezed me into her incredibly busy schedule, knowing my OCD is on fire. The combination of kids and an imperfect house could send me into a fit of lunacy of the very unfun kind. Mind you, this is also my late father's birthday, falling on Fathers' Day this year for a double whammy, so this weekend is all wrapped up into one big stress burrito. I really want to be a good aunt to my little nephews. It's just so hard to stay calm when they speak in shouts and touch everything in my contamination-free-zone. OCD is not fun, folks. I'm doing my best, but sometimes it's embarassing and makes me feel like a total jerk. I hate hiding from the people I love because they scare me. My nephews are adorable, clever, funny little kids. I know there's nothing to be frightened of, and yet, I'm scared to death.
Let's not end on a mopey note. I got an offer on my 4th book of poetry, Vault from Foothills press and I just got my contributors' copies of the current issue of Open Minds Quarterly, including my poem, "A Bucket of Divinity". Want a copy? Comment below and I'll pick a name one week from today. I'll throw in a little something special for your crafting stash too, just because I'm so darn nice. :)