Whew. It feels good to be on Spring Break, even though I am keeping very busy catching up on school, cleaning my stank-nasty house, and going to soccer practice. I was so stressed, depressed, and tired of the cheeldren that I thought I would burst before 3:15 on Thursday. We drove up to Des Moines on Thursday night and then drove the rest of the way to Minneapolis on Friday.
We were staying in downtown Minneapolis because my school is downtown. On Friday, we planned to check in early, watch the streaming episode of Lost we missed Thursday, then I had a meeting with a professor. We stepped into the lobby of the hotel only to be assaulted by the familiar squees, cell phone rings, and interrogative tone of hundreds of teenagers. It would be my luck that a statewide DECA conference was wrapping up that weekend. Son of a bitch. Teenagers everywhere. I almost had a panic attack while waiting in line to check in. Through clenched teeth, behind mirrored sunglasses, I politely inquired as to the nature of mass of tightly-bundled hormones. The saintly-patient woman behind the counter smiled reassuringly and said, "They're leaving tomorrow." They would, however, thwart my timetable for events. After watching Lost, I left our 18th-floor room to go to my meeting with the professor and made my way to the elevator. When one finally arrived, naturally packed with teens, every single floor button was pushed. I immediately stepped out and waited for another elevator. Again, every single floor button was lit up. These motherfuckers. This totally karma coming back to me from all those soccer tournaments where my friends and I disturbed shit in hotels. By the time I got to my meeting, I was frazzled, flustered, sweaty, and my nose started running uncontrollably, which is undesirable when meeting with a professor about a paper. The worst part was that I was sweating profusely, and I was wearing my cool new "Bitches Get Shit Done" t-shirt under a lightweight bamboo sweater. I desperately wanted to take the sweater off and air out the jacuzzi under my arms, but I didn't really know the professor that well and how he would respond to two expletives in one t-shirt. So, I literally sweat it out.
The same thing would happen the next day when, after sleeping in past class starting time due to the age-old predicament of setting one's alarm to PM instead of AM, I didn't even attempt the elevator when I saw, no joke, at least 25 kids and their luggage waiting for the elevator the next morning. I took 18 flights down at breakneck speed, only to come into class 30 minutes late, sweaty, hair a hot tranny mess. I spent a lot of the weekend flustered, but mad props to the downtown Hyatt in Minneapolis. They handled the teen drama, and the other guests who had to deal with said drama, with class and hospitality. I'd recommend it.
Class was good, though, and Chris and I really enjoyed the time together in the car and hotel room. I particularly enjoyed our trip to IKEA on the way home, where we procured, unexpectedly, quite reasonably-priced new dressers, essentially doubling my clothing storage space, which is much more awesome than I imagined. We totally moved around our bedroom, and it seems much bigger even though we have more furniture in the room. Sucked putting together twelve drawers on Sunday night, but the results have been great. I totally love IKEA, and, after putting together both dressers, I really believe the quality of their stuff has increased over the past few years.
Anyway, I'm spending this week catching up on my Policy class, which includes watching Outfoxxed, cleaning and making minor home improvements, and hopefully drinking some beers, although not before soccer practice. That would be irresponsible.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
We're back. St. Croix did not suck at all. Let's drink.
Ooh I still need to get myself a Bitches Get Shit Done shirt.
Post a Comment