I’m sick. Ugh. Throat-hurting, brain-spinning, sleep-craving sick. Clearly it’s not my fault. It’s not AFS-USA’s fault; or Seattle’s fault. It’s not Marc’s fault (I bet he’s glad he’s not to blame for a change 
No, not the president silly. He’s dead. JFK the airport. That ^%#^%& airport. I left Seattle on Monday morning, two hours later than our plane was scheduled to depart. Great, missed my connection. Ugh.
I was placed on a later flight, cancelled. Cancelled! And the next flight was full. I talked to people at the desk while hubs called the airline. Nothing. Nothing until 8:00 a.m. the next morning. Fourteen hours later. I was exhausted. Wiped out. Starting to feel less than stellar—and fourteen hours in an airport wasn’t going to help matters any. So, Marc got me a hotel.
The story he tells me involves him using two phones—one at each ear—calling hotels. Everything close to the airport was full. Finally he found me a room on Long Island. And I found a cab to take me there. Except he was clueless—the cabbie that is. Completely clueless…and the GPS was in the back of the cab—you know where I was sitting. Hello, what? Took me so long to get there (we called the hotel for directions at least 4 times) that I thought I wouldn’t have time to sleep before I needed to head back to the airport. But no, he was just lost.
The hotel people were wonderful—they ordered me a car service when I checked-in. They made sure it came late enough that I would get breakfast, but so I’d get to the airport in time. The car service man was super cool—knew where he was going and much cheaper. Also, he had family in Mooers, NY. He was shocked I knew where that was…
I have never been so happy to be home. What a cheery welcome my front door was.
Anyway, I digress…I’m sick. I cleaned my house yesterday, but you can’t really tell today. We are two people (must now post cute kitty picture).
We have no children. So how is it that the house doesn’t look picked up after 24 hours. Because I’m not cleaning today (remember I’m sick?) you can’t come visit, unless you are my mom bringing me soup. Actually anyone can come over if you bring me soup. Yes? Yes.
And to respond to my mother who is probably reading this (Hi, Mom) and asking why I need to post that I’m sick on my blog. It’s because I want sympathy…and soup.
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