“Out came the sun, and dried up all the rain...and the itsy bitsy spider climbed up spout again.” - Irish mother singing to the baby sitting right next to me on my overnight flight to Dublin. Thank God I like babies. This did prevent me from getting a good night’s sleep, but being on a plane prevents me from getting a good night’s sleep in itself. What gives.
Tl;dr: Therapy appointment where we talked about stuff, drank a kaley and peanut buttery smoothie, shopped for more sheets and towels at Bed Bath and Beyond, got home and rushed to pack and prepare all the sheets and towels and notes to cleaners for 5 Airbnb reservations in June and July...ahh! Got myself to the airport with little time to spare. Sat on a shitty plane next to a cute-enough small child. Ate shitty plane food and flew overnight.
I got myself to therapy on time for the first time in a while.
I even had time to go get cash out before so I could pay her for all of my other visits where I haven’t had time to get cash out before. We had a nice time together, talking about stuff, and other stuff, like feelings. It was good. I feel great. I’m in a much better position to avoid anxiety or just recognize and deal with it.
It’s pretty incredible thinking about all of the back pain I was having just a few months ago, and then thinking about all of the back pain I don’t have now, simply (and not so simply) by allowing myself to follow my desired path, not the path someone else desired. There were days that I couldn’t turn my head, it was so painful. One day I had to leave work at lunch to go get a massage, and this didn’t help, then I left again in the afternoon to go to physical therapy. I kept treating the symptoms not the core issue. There was something eating away inside me, and I just kept suppressing it, and it regularly reared it’s head as back pain. Anyways...
After my appointment I walked downtown getting a smoothie along the way with: almond milk, kale, banana, chia seed, and peanut butter.
I slurped it as I walked to Bed Bath and Beyond. I needed to get some last minute supplies, making sure I was stocked for a bunch of Airbnb reservations this summer. This was a bit overwhelming to plan for, since I’ll be away for a month, and I’ll have to operate my Airbnb biz remotely. I left MC with my keys just incase something goes awry. He’s an angel to help me. He’s also going to check in on my place a few times throughout the month, which is a relief.
I got back from BB&B with three huge bags, and got to prepping.
I’ve scheduled cleaners for all of the dates that I need them, and I left a note with the proper amount of sheets and towels in a stack for each date. They are all lined up in my linen closet. Here’s to praying someone doesn’t fuck up my stacks along the way. I felt pretty proud of my sheet and towel stacks. I sent pics to my mom. She was like, “wow, organized!” That was just the reaction I wanted.
Then I had to quickly pack.
Luckily I like silk tops, which pack very small. I packed a bunch of those and the other normal stuff I wear, that I plan to re-wear many times over the next month. I figured I could do laundry along the way, since I’m staying with friends. My mom asked me to send her my agenda, which I didn’t do, because I only half-know my agenda. I did other stuff like called my bank, added international data to my phone, and payed for my health insurance (which I won’t need for the month but have to pay for anyways mother fuckers). Then keeping to my rituals, I left 45 minutes later than anticipated for the airport.
What fun is life if you aren’t living on the edge?
Ugh, probably more fun, because you can actually just read on the subway instead of obsessively checking the time on your phone. I was lucky that the security lines at JFK were short. They still pulled my bag aside to check the contents. I snuck a full size toothpaste in there. They let the paste pass, but as a consolation prize the TSA douche ripped apart my organized packing job and made me repack my bag again….all for the fucking toothpaste. I made sure to pack slowly (knowing I had enough time to get to my gate), huffing and puffing as I perfectly and delicately folded my silk tops, placing them carefully back in my bag, just so.
The flight was delayed an hour. I chatted on the phone with MC while I waited, and he was like “Wait, don’t tell me what you’re doing, I’d rather read about it in your blog.” I was like, “K, bye.” Then I bought a chocolate bar, oops. My hand just slipped onto the bar and onto the cash to pay for it. I blame it on the American Airlines due to the delay. What else was I supposed to do?
Finally we boarded the flight, a very shitty old plane with no TVs on the seats (ugh).
How are we supposed to survive, American Airlines? The baby next to me was pretty cute. I love babies, but he was about a 5 on the cuteness scale (out of 10). He was too loud tbh (to be honest, moms). It was only a 6 hour flight. The food was horrific as usual, but the wine was free, so I had a glass.
I have a sneaky suspicion that I’m allergic to some wine, so I wanted to test my suspicion. My left gland in my throat gets swollen, and I've noticed recently when drinking wine. It kind of happened, but not that bad, so I’m not really sure. I’ll have to drink more wine and see.
I read for a bit, then took to my ‘backpack hugging’ position where I put my backpack on my tray table, topped with the pillow and blanket they give you on-board, and topped once more with my scarf. Then I lean forward, head on backpack/pillow/blanket/scarf stack and sleep until my neck hurts too much to sleep any longer. I woke up in Ireland. My baby neighbor had way too much energy for someone who only slept a few hours. We played a bit of peek-a-boo, then I got off the plane.
Now I’m getting into the next day, so I have to stop here.
- Arrive in Dublin
- Make my way to my friend’s flat
- Sleep all day
- Get up in time to meet friends after work for drinks and dinner
- Drank a Guinness and watched Ireland win their Euro-cup match
- Walked home, giggled about memories with Yer Man and Yer Wan.