A better frame of mind

My bags are packed, the cat box has been re-freshened (someday I will create a cat that doesn't poop - that will be my gift to the world!), dishes are done and I'm mostly ready to go!

I can't find my digital camera battery charger and I think I've looked everywhere. Obviously I haven't looked everywhere or I would have it. I remember the outlet I last used it in, but Ive had dinner guests since then so it could be ANYWHERE.

What you ask is the connection between the battery charger and dinner guests? The answer my friends is frantic last minute cleaning - and surface cleaning at that. You know, the last minute sweep through of anything out of place. It goes in a big pile to someplace the guests will never go. Yes, I've already checked the laundry area and the scary places in the "office". It will I'm sure magically appear the day I get back.

We leave tomorrow at 7:45 am - so I'm picking up Mr. Rico at 6:00 a.m. thank heavens there's a drive thru starbucks on the way to his house.

I don't expect to get blackberry service in Mexico - but I'm sure the hotel has a business center so you may be getting an update.

I did stop by Tropic Dreams for one last fake 'n bake. The gal suggested upping the minutes so I was adventurous and gave myself a 7 minute top off. Most of you have never done the tanning bed thing - Janie use to be totally tan-arexic until she had to have a little something burned off her skin, now she's a pasty white as God intended. Anywho - the build up to 7 minutes is actually funny because the leatherettes around me at the check-in counter are signing up for 16-20 minute sessions. Good Christ are they cooking a chicken in there? As it was, for me anyway, 7 minutes was enough to feel a little crispy. No matter - I'm done with the fake tanning (until my prince charming comes to whisk me away to Greece for a year - I may have to top off the exoskeleton when that happens.)

I guess that's it. maybe though I'll leave you with some (OLD) "poetry" to tide you over.

Here's an oldie from 1998:

6501 1/2
Ode to my upstairs neighbors
(also a primary driver for moving )

I put my book down and turn off the light
my lids close and I'm embraced by the night

This is the time for quiet to grow,
instead my ear drums begin to blow

I can hear every word, every intonation
every noise, every tiny reverberation

at 11 they lay in bed, laugh and talk
by midnight, I'm angry and want to balk

at 1 they're watching a dirty movie
by 2 they're quiet... in a little groovie

at 2:15, I'm frustraited, wide awake
upstairs the bed moves and the ceiling shakes

I hear a sigh, a coo and a yearning moan
She calls out a name and yells a groan

Above me the movement slows and I think they're done
but no they start again, having pleased just one

It sounds to me like digging for buried treasure,
she's pretty vocal about her ambassador of pleasure

at 4am I just want to roll over and die
and finally I hear it - the girls last sigh

I drift away into a dark bliss
the alarm sounds... fuck it's 6!

I make it to work and slump at my desk
plop my head down for a little rest

The phone rings, my head flies up disturbing the pool,
I have to wipe my face, remove the drool

What did I do to deserve this degradation?
How do I endure nightly sleep deprivation?

Tonight I'm ready, I have ear plugs
and have filled my body with hard core drugs

I snuggle in my bead, ready for a riot
but its peaceful upstairs, blissfully quiet

I can't hear nary a peep
I softly drift ... off...to...sleep

Certainly not Ogden Nash, but it is based on a true event.