we had last week off. drove up to scotland. took the cat. bad idea number one. about 45 minutes into the 6 hour drive my lap was the proud home to a steaming pile of cat puke. even more unlucky for me was that we were about 20 minutes away from the services exit. after getting to the services and finding a rubbish bin to unload the nasty, i shook out the hooded sweater i had sensibly placed on my lap in case of kitty pukeage.
back on the road.
another hour or two went past.
an hour or two of happiness shattered in an instant. the first time was easier to deal with. it was more like moist cat food. the second was much more horrifying.
so we stopped at another services. shoved the cat into her litter box. and positioned it so she couldn't escape. we figured the dark would be better because she could sleep. no. every time she heard me talk she let out a plaintive wail. for 3 more hours.
when we got to scotland we took her in and locked her in the bathroom so we could get settled and so i could clean her off. you see, in the 3 hours she managed to be sick AND do major wet number 2's all over herself AND the hooded sweater which was in the litter box with her.
so now, we're all settled. the cat has food which she gulps down frantically. makes sense since her tummy was quite certainly empty. oh, one thing we forgot to mention to the wendy kitten... this house we're staying at, has 2 small children and another kitty. oh the joys that will be the introductions.
next day after some much needed sleep we all enjoyed the peaceful yowls and delicate growls of a supremely pissed off wendy.
now, we had two days of relative happiness. then monday thru thursday we had to wake up at 7:45 to take the girls to school for 9. which involved much tears and bickering. and the girls weren't much better. in the evenings it was homework and dinner. oh and trying to get the girls to eat their veggies. which involved even more tears and bickering.
then home thursday night. up early friday morning for the 2 hour drive down to london. the 20 minute line at the american embassy (which to be fair if i were not american would have been an hour or two line). then the whole passport thing. see, i lost my passport. which according to the records at the embassy is my second time at doing so. but really it's not. the first time i "lost" my passport it was simply in transit because the post office decided not to deliver it because my name wasn't on the mailbox as i had just moved into the apartment. now, normally i would sort of understand this, except i moved into an area where the names on the mailboxes changes every semester. i mean, i was living 10 minutes from harvard. duh postal people. just deliver the damn envelope. especially since they delivered mail for a dude who hadn't lived in the apartment for at least a year and his name wasn't on the mailbox either.
ahem. i digress.
so, passport. actually lost for real this time. forms filled out. payments made. oh thank goodness the american dollar is such crap right now. it only cost us 47 lbs instead of the 97 dollars. so forms done, paying done, waiting... getting scolded by the mousy embassy dude for my lost passport, agreeing to an oath from a nice american lady and having her commiserate about the not lost passport/postal fuck up. one hour later we're done. got lunch. drove home.
did some shopping for the week to come. slept.
saturday. up at 8:30 so we could leave in time to drive the 2 and half hours up to manchester. had lunch with the in laws. checked in to the hotel down the street. enough time to get changed and freshen up to walk "15 minutes" down the street to hubby's friend's parent's house. his definition of 15 minutes is really far off. i think it's the equivilent to his definition of "9 inches". so we head out to the friend's house only my cute shiny heeled shoes broke about 5 minutes from the hotel. so back to the hotel for the sneakers and then back out.
at the friend's house it was all "hi" , "how are you", "your kid is super cute" , "let's go get sloshed". from there on it's a slight blur.
not really. football game surrounded by happy boys who haven't all seen each other for a year at least. since the smoking ban footgames are much more enjoyable for me (no sneezing or smelling like an ashtray for the rest of the night). i even got a warm cake and custard dessert even though the kitchen was closed.
then it was off to another pub to play pool... or really to watch the hubby kick ass at pool. it's amazing how even after dating for 2 years you are surprised at someone's talents.
a few pints later it's dragging the hubby back to the hotel. we walked the whole way because we just couldn't be bothered to look for a taxi.
the next morning we headed back to his mum's house for some fatty breakfast and chatter. and may i just say i love me some fatty breakfast. i think black pudding is my secret love. it's just so wrong and oh so right.
then it was off to visit (or attempt to visit) some more family. we barged in on one auntie still in her pj's. finally at 2 in the afternoon we made our departure via the shopping center in manchester. i needed new clothes. probably from all my fatty breakfasts.
clothes shopping done (don't ask how it went. i hate shopping. i hate people. it was my worst nightmare come to life.) we went off for a quick lunch. bumped into a couple who's wedding cake i made. chatted. left.
then back to work the next morning.
so how has everyone else been?