This weekend starts a week of fresh air, beer swilling, nobrain cell using vacation. Our escapesfrom the reality of our day to day lives are pretty laid back, but this onewill be epically relaxiating.
Even so, there are always arrangements to be made . . . andI do the all the prep work. It makesthings oh-so-much easier with no input from hubby. Basically, because he freaks out at theslightest little thing . . . . the result of which being that if he gets stressed out the threats of vacationbeing cancelled erupt. Let’s face it he’sa big freakin’ baby. But he’s mine and Ilove him.
I pack my clothes, provide him with a basket of pre sortedclothing to choose from for him to pack (it gives him the feeling that he’scontributed to getting ready for the trip), gather snacks, coffee fixins andthe like. That way everything is readyto go when . .. . well . . . we’re ready to go.
This time the loading of the truck went flawlessly . . .everything in its place, nothing amiss and . . . most remarkable . . . no hissyfits. It was really and trulyamazing. In the interest of full disclosure. . . he did forget his coat but we were only a couple blocks away from homewhen he realized it and it was a quick turn about and retrieval with verylittle excitement.
The trip itself was as good as it gets. We hit the usual traffic in the usual spotsbut nothing major and we made the drive from Connecticut to the White Mountainsof New Hampshire in 4 ½ hours . . . not bad considering it’s taken us as longas 8 hours . . . but typically around 6.
We arrived at the motel . . . the White Trellis . . . ourhome away from home. What we see when wepull into the parking lot sets the tone for the next hour or so . . . some wasparked in his . . . yes his . . . parking space. You see, this place is really is our home away from home and we have our ownroom . . . really! Room #8? Yeah, that’s ours every time we visit .. . which is several times a year. There are assigned spaces for each room andsome Masshole was parked in ours. Now,take into consideration, it is winter there is snow on the ground, it was darkand you can’t see the space markers. It mattersnot . . . car . . . in his space . . . a travesty. Thus begins the downward spiral topoopheadedness. Me? I’m all like whatever there’s another spacejust as close to our room . . . premium parking, in fact.
We got out of the truck only to be greeted by our cheerfulinnkeeper, Mary. She showers us withhugs and kisses prior to taking our credit card and giving us the password forthe wireless internet connection.
While I’m paying the bill, he begins unloading thetruck. We haven’t seen Mary for a fewmonths and there is much to catch up. It’slate and all I want to do is settle in and have a beer and relax. By the time I manage to say good night, hubbyhas the truck unloaded and well on his way to grumpiness. “I could’ve used a little help,” says he.
I roll my eyes and help bring the rest of our stuff into theroom which he has piled outside the door.
As a side note . . . any place we stay the minimumrequirements are a clean room and access to the interwebs . . . not much elsematters.
We got into the room and it was like 80,000 degrees inthere. A new digital thermostats hadbeen installed with the controls locked out and we couldn’t adjust thetemperature. The grumpiness level is beginningto spike. But, he hacked it soon enoughand that crisis was over.
However, we he tries to get his laptop connected to thewireless router it won’t connect. Keep inmind that I booted up MY laptop, plugged in the password and I was surfing theworld wide web right off the bat. Also, besideshis laptop he brought his tablet and he got that connected right off, aswell. And his mobile phone has internetaccess. He’s got a plethora oftechnology at his fingertips. But hecouldn’t get his laptop online and the world was coming to an end.
“That’s it”, says he “I’m going home.” (Really he said that!)
Incredulously I say, “You’re going home? Right now?”
“You have internet access. You can Facebook, read blogs and catch up on the news to your heart’scontent . . . what’s the problem.”
“I can’t play my games on the tablet . . . it’s slower thandirt.”
Okay . . . we’re in the
White Mountainssurrounded by majestic beauty, marvelous brew pubs and stuff to do no matterwhere you go and HE is worried that he won’t get the high score in Bejeweled Blitzor Zuma. Can you say addicted??
Picture this . . . an 8 year old child stomping his foot andcrying, “I’m taking my toys and I’m going home.” That will give you an accurate picture of thetantrum I was facing. I decided the bestcourse of action was to ignore him and he’d get over it. So, I just continued enjoying my beer and browsingthe web. He finally got his laptop connected and all was right with the world.
We wake up the next morning to a blue sky filled with poofywhite clouds and a view of snow spattered mountains. Not a bad way to start to the day.
in lieu of an apology, he justified his fit of tempersaying, “In my defense, everything went perfectly getting here.” Like that in any way justified him acting like a big giant baby with a droopy,poopy diaper and a raging case of diaper rash.
Welcome to my world.