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Saturday, January 8, 2011

There's a home for the bees in my hair.

The hubster has been out of town for a few days. This occurs every year at this time, it coincides with the convention he attends. I always enjoy this sojourn. I usually take a day of two off, as this comes immediately after the New Year the boys are still out of school (and yes, even though I have one getting his B.A. in June they're are still "the boys" and they are still "in (or out) of school") and we just poke around the state, doing whatever strikes us. I look forward to this, we have some damn good times, never planning, just sort of wandering. My older son is happy to go along with this sort of thing, although he's a planner by nature, although he too has an adventurous streak. The hubster is also a planner.

Traveling with him is insane. There always has to be a plan in place, before we leave. Fortunately we don't have to keep to a rigid TIME schedule but there must be a list of places we will see and a plan for days we will see them. A drive through the desert to
Vegas includes stops along the way. Victorville for gas, Yermo for lunch, Baker for coupons and drinks...

Me? I fill the tank and press on the accelerator. Go. Get there. This is how I travel.

Well, anyway, As I was stuck taking vacation time I didn't want to take last December there wasn't really much chance to take these days off. I also still don't have the car registered. I have been whining and badgering and screaming about this. There are several parking tickets that have to be dealt with. They are LONG overdue and have accrued penalty after penalty and they must be paid before the registration can be completed. AS the hubster spends the better part of his days and nights staring at the screen of his laptop reading other people's twitter posts and blogs he is far too busy to take a 15 minute bus ride up to the police station "pay your parking ticket here" window and ask what can be done about this. The car, and the tickets are solely in his name, I can't do it. I also would have to take a day off to do this, as I trudge to work the same five days he sits and stares at his computer screen and amuses no one by reading other people's observations on life and politics out loud.

He does this day in and day out. Now, fine, basically I have no problem with wasting time. I've wasted plenty of it myself. BUT...the way I work? Do what you have to do, THEN waste some time. If there's a call to be made? Make the dame thing Monday morning. Oh, they're busy Monday morning? Read CNN while you're on hold. GET IT DONE!
Go the the damn police department and see what can be done about the tickets, I have no problems paying them, I will even pay the late fees but some collection agency has doubled them now. GET IT DONE! THEN come home and sit on your ass for awhile.

But no. He rolls his eves and sighs and goes back to twitter. His mantra is "never do anything until it's too late." This drives me CRAZY.

And this is a big part of why this yearly break has been one of the worst weeks of my life. Even though I can't drive, the boys and I have be exercising our usual spur-of-the-moment adventures. No, we haven't dropped everything and headed for the beach or the Indian Casino or Palm Springs for lunch and back. But on Thursday afternoon we pitched our plans to head for the local shopping mall by bus after I was off work and buy a storage tub for the fake tree and eat fish at the airport (yes, there's a nice little place that serves good, reasonably priced fist at the airport) and decided to rush "Hair." On opening night.

Well, with just enough time to catch a bus the boys headed to Hollywood and got to the Pantages about an hour before the box office opened for last minute rush tickets. There was no one there. They headed off for some cokes and came back to wait. They were first in line when the window opened and snagged three tickets in the back of the orchestra. For a fraction of what we would have paid had we purchased them in advance. In fact, three of us saw the show for the price of a single face value ticket. The show, btw, is absolutely amazing. There is some truly great theater touring and we've been lucky. Invest a little time, see something wonderful for pennies.

Anyway, I left directly from the office to join them. As the show started at 8 the boys decided to wander down Hollywood Blvd, I was going to join them at a little Italian Restaurant my younger son knew of. But on the way my older son looked at a pub on the corner by the theater and said "can we eat here?"

See? Off the cuff changes are wonderful. I joined them in a busy Irish pup which had $3 beer (32 varieties on tap alone) and great "pub grub" at extremely moderate prices. Warm, full and relaxed we walked the block to the theater and saw a powerful and memorable show. My younger son danced on stage.

All because we decided to NOT buy a plastic tub for the Christmas tree and eat fish.

Now one could argue that by not buying the tub for the tree I was putting something off and yes, I did. The container did NOT have a time sensitive deadline however. We had already stripped it and had all the ornaments wrapped and boxed. Because we had actually DONE the chore at hand we were able to veer off and do something wonderful.

There is STILL a problem, a large one, that the hubster should have taken care of MONTHS ago and, while he parties in Vegas and calls it work I lay awake nights, unable to sleep for fear of what will happen due to this problem. This, and the transportation problems have kept us from doing a LOT of what we might have done and the fears have kept me from really enjoying this brief respite from the "do I have any clean shirts?" and "When's dinner going to be ready" life I lead.

I am going to attempt to take care of this problem myself, which, I well know, is exactly what he's counting on. Wait until it reaches monumental proportions and then I'll take care of it. This happened last October and, while he sat and read Roger Ebert's tweets I had to mobilize. Because he wouldn't. And it's going to collapse again because of yet another undone chore. And all the while he punches his keyboard. If I can get through this week-end I know I can handle it by Monday. It should have been handled a YEAR ago Monday. Sleeping through the night though, is so enticing that I will end up doing it. It's NOT fair. It's not fair that I slog out to work every damn day while everyone else is in bed. It's not fair that the hubster can't even take the day to day problems off my shoulders, it's not fair that he won't do the dishes or go downstairs and put a load of laundry in or cook a simple meal for dinner. It's not fair that he goes out to the local bar twice a week for trivia games and karaoke contests while I stay in, keeping an eye on the boys (one of whom has some mild health issues) and it's not fair that I can't take the car I just paid off anywhere and give myself some peace on the open road (yes, I LOVE to drive and find it hella therapeutic).

But at least I got to see "Hair" again. While I didn't dance on the stage this time...I will again. I know this.

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