Yes, this is a little post-vacation rant.
People get all pissy when I'm negative about things, telling me I "should" be more positive. Well, why? Why should I put a rose-colored-glasses spin on something that just sucked? Whatever happened to honesty, to telling it like it is?
We just got home from NC about 45 minutes ago (and for reference it's 4:10 a.m. Sunday morning, October 3). The reason we got home at 3:15 in the morning is because two of the three people involved in this trip unilaterally decided it would be better for them if we drove straight through, without bothering to consult Person 3 (that would be me) as to how I felt, or how this would effect Tyler.
Consequently, Tyler didn't get his dinner - a meal he could ill afford to miss since he's lost so much weight during his illness - and didn't get his last dose of eye medicine for the night. I was planning on feeding and medicating him when we got to the hotel room; by the time I realized we weren't stopping (since no one bothered to enlighten me as to this decision), it was midnight, I was too exhausted to try to put ointment in Tyler's eyes in the dark, there was no way he was going to eat in a moving vehicle - he's been very finicky about food lately, and has to be coaxed into eating - so the whole damned thing was a wash.
Also consequently, I got home wired and unable to go straight to bed, so I'm still up at 4:00 a.m. Which means that whenever I do finally crash, I'll still wake up by 8:00 or 8:30 a.m. - because I always do, no matter how late I go to bed - and I'll be a wreck all day tomorrow from lack of sleep. And I had things to do - like making sure laundry was done for work next week, and going to the grocery store. Conversely, certain others of my travel companions will be able to sleep until 11 or noon - as they frequently do after a late night - and wake up feeling fine tomorrow, with nothing to do all day except relax.
To add insult to injury, I was crammed sardine-esque into the backseat of the truck with Tyler, in what I came to refer to as the sarcophagus. I couldn't move, I couldn't lay down, I couldn't stretch out, I couldn't even put my feet on the floor. This was in part because I had an extra bag in the backseat on the way home that I hadn't had there on the way down, because I had very much wanted a shower Saturday before we left, but I didn't get to take it (which is another story), so I wanted to make sure I had shower stuff with me when we stopped at the hotel.
Which, of course, we didn't do. Had I known that, I'd have packed that crap up in my suitcase instead, and at least had a little more leg room.
Why couldn't I take a shower Saturday morning? Funny you should ask. Because on Friday night certain other people decided to stay up drinking until 3:30 or so in the morning, and one of them got sick all over one of the bathrooms; whereupon, when his girlfriend (not me) discovered this mess, she spent the morning doing laundry and cleaning up not only that mess, but our beach house - which I greatly appreciated, but it involved running the dishwasher - so between the dishwasher and the washing machine, I couldn't take a shower. And by the time they were both done, there wasn't enough time left to do it.
Which is why I desperately wanted to take a shower when we stopped for the night.
Hence my pissiness about the enforced overnight drive, which will have no negative effect on the people who unilaterally made the decision, but will pretty well wreck my Sunday before having to return to work Monday morning. Thanks, guys, for thinking of me and Tyler, instead of only yourselves.
More annoying was that Saturday dawned bright and fair - it was the first time I'd seen the sun in a week, skies were blue, ocean was calm and blue - and we had to leave. By 10:00 a.m. It rained All. Week. With the bonus of the not-tropical-storm that locals were comparing to Hurricane Floyd in 1999, if not in intensity, at least in rainfall (which it surpassed), endurance (an entire day and half the nights before and after), and frenzy (pounding winds and walls of rain for hours on end).
I'm not a Pollyanna, so I'd be lying if I said this was a good trip. It pretty well sucked, to tell you the truth. It sucked bad enough that I'm doubtful I'm going to bother trying it again next year, as far - FAR - too many things would have to change, which are unlikely to change without major upheaval. Because some people get ahold of things that work for them and really rebel about having their working status quo changed on them - despite that it doesn't work for someone else, who footed their fair share of the bill for this fiasco.
My truck now has over 90,000 miles on it, and I am no longer comfortable taking it on these long yearly trips, as I desperately need it to last as long as possible, since I don't know how difficult it's going to be for me to afford to replace it.
In addition, it's WAY too small for three people and a dog, and after the horrific experience of being entombed in the backseat for seventeen hours today, without even being able to lie down comfortably, there is no way in hell I'd ever try that again in this truck.
Thirdly, this trip is getting too difficult to afford anyway - and if we needed to rent a bigger truck (and a bigger beach house, but that's a story for another time), that just adds more to the expense, which I can't afford.
Fourth, if my opinion and the needs of me and my dog aren't going to matter anyway, then why am I going to bother being toted along and inconvenienced at someone else's whim, just so I can contribute my 1/2 of the money (and the transportation)? Screw that.
So ... that's where I'm at, at almost 4:30 a.m. after two weeks of pure hell (because, remember, Tyler's disaster and surgery was just the week prior to our leaving).
September was not a kind month to me.
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