It's not like I was sleeping anyway... but looking at the precious minutes tick past and knowing that I wasn't getting any shut-eye, I dragged my carcass up from the bed to jiggle the toilet tank handle 'one more time' and give it an evil glare. Is there anything so maddening in the middle of the night as water trickling induced insomnia? The clock said 2:10 a.m.
Insomnia is bad enough by itself, but when you have things to do the next day that require wit and alertness, it makes the next day a precarious dance between slap-happy giddiness and a tiresome slow burning anger that threatens to pop up and randomly kill someone. The appointed duty in the graying light of dawn for today was to get Beth and Pete to the airport in time to catch their flight so they wouldn't have to sprint down the runway behind the plane helplessly flapping their arms in the vain attempt at being allowed on the departing bird.
No problem. I'm happy to help. I just hope they will be happy I helped when they get to the airport. Generally, the screaming passengers from careening vehicles aren't allowed to board planes.
Lying in the bed counting breaths, I hoped time had passed by. It hadn't. I glanced at the clock again and realized that it was still well before 4 a.m. Rather than continue to lie there and stir around until I woke Rick up, I decided it was time to just get up. Tossing on some clothes, I trundled along trying not to crunch down too hard on my sore ankle and still make it to the desk where the other ankle brace lie in wait for application. It's bad enough when one leg has abandoned you. A reasonable person can still kind of hobble along and hope for the best. But when both have given up the ghost and offer crunchy pain at every step, it can be kinda disheartening.
I have no idea what is wrong with it and frankly, I'm afraid to find out. But I digress.
The airport patrol started in the driveway of the darkened home of my friends. I waited until just before the appointed time to dial their home phone because I didn't want to scare the snot out of them just in case Beth and Pete were getting a few last winks. When Beth answered the phone, I heard them both stirring around so I was glad I hadn't awakened them. Of course, they were both occupied in hastily finishing the last minute details before departure. I told her I was in the driveway and she came to the front door to let me in.
EZ, their canid child, was nowhere in sight when I got in the house and sat in a chair at the table to wait out the last few minutes before leaving. When he noticed I was inside, he growled at me. To be fair, the room was dark except for the luminous glow of the iTouch screen and I'm sure I looked like a bluish devil sitting there smiling at him. Come to think of it, if I'd seen that spectral image, I'd growl too.
When I talked to him he bounded over and we were friends once again. Poor little guy... it's patently obvious that he is in dire need of affection and care... he slavishly rolls to the floor for belly rubs and lots of patting when I come. I'm quite sure that Beth and Pete do all they can for him as he is NOT an abused, neglected or ignored mutt, but he is quite adapt at giving the impression that he is persecuted, picked on and much maligned. It's a gift. The dog could rake in money in Hollywood. I don't mind the floor show since my own mutt does the same thing.
After making sure the happy travelers had gathered all the necessary items for their boarding and departure, I headed out of the airport. I could blame the next segment on lack of sleep, other drivers or poor signage, but let's just tell the truth. I am a brilliant woman with no sense of direction.
When the happy travelers were appropriately dropped off at their flight area and I was heading back home, I had an epiphany of sorts. Apparently you can leave the airport without ever really leaving it at all. I was circling the drain. That's right. Random driving while the airport security guy was giving me the evil eye. I'm sure he thought I was some sort of lunatic. Finally, a dude on a motorcycle seemed to know where he was going and I managed to find my way out of the airport campus before running out of gas.
It probably wasn't actually that close a thing on the gas, but I always get concerned when I can't find my way around. What if I stay in a holding pattern until the tank is drained and no one saves me? Will it be of concern to others? Or will they just assume, and probably rightly so, that I have no one to blame but myself?
The strange thing is that I have navigated my way BY MYSELF through several states and around the nation from time to time. But somewhere along the way, a POOR sense of direction was replaced with absolutely NO sense of direction at all. It's not like I expect to look down and see a compass in my belly, but sometimes it would be nice to have some inner voice telling me which way to go. As it is, I do possess an 'outer voice' telling me where to go, but I left the GPS thingy hickeydoojer at home. I'm sure it would have helped me if only it wasn't asleep in my desk drawer.
The sun is now up, the day promises brilliant skies and sunshine bathing this segment of the world in a warm glow and sometime today, I have to find the time to take the resident mutt for an outdoor assassination attempt... uh, I mean a training exercise.
I hope the crunchiness in my ankle works itself out. Otherwise the walk will be slow and painful. Which simply gives Gypsy more time to plan my demise. It's not like she is in the will, but she tries hard. And I'm quite sure she can use the time to get even with me for petting and loving on her cousin EZ while I was at his house. She is a jealous thing.
Vaya con Dios! And be sure and call if you need a ride to the airport. I'll be happy to take you if you tell me how to get there and eventually, I'll find my way back out to the highway.
