Sunday, June 14, 2009

I only wish my bad things would come in threes...

Today has be an Alexandrian Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. Allow me to explain:

As all bad days start, Aunt Flo came to visit today. At least she didn't ruin my entire vacation.

I woke up early to load up the rest of my bags before I got on the road for Oxford (after visiting my family and fiance in Augusta for two weeks). The 'rest of my bags' includes two 1-year old tabbies, Blondie and Brownie. Now, I've travelled with B&B several times, and have never had a problem with them. But today, they decided to be finicky. On the way to Dustin's job to say goodbye one last time, Blondie barfs. Twice. Apparently, cats have gallon sized stomachs. Dustin cleaned out their kennel for me (bless his saintly heart), and I tearfully said goodbye. 

This is bad thing #3. It might be December before I get to see Dustin again, and after some bad news from his professor (they changed the time for the last class he needs), we may have to wait until May (instead of December) for him to graduate. And even if all this hadn't been running through my mind, saying goodbye sucks on its own merit. 

Bad Thing #4: I'm crying, on the way to meet my mom at our exit (we caravanned today) when, lo and behold, Blondie exhibits another gastrointestinal display and poops in his kennel. (Seriously, how in the world could he have anything left in his system?) This damn cat interrupted my few cathartic minutes of crying with the stink of cat poo. 

Going through Alabama, Mom and I stop for lunch at a Wendy's. After our meal, I decide take care of Aunt Flo before getting on the road again. There was no toilet paper in the restroom. Normally, in a case like this, I'd be uncouth and just dash into the men's restroom (I can't tell you how many men I've surprised exiting their restrooms--can I get arrested for this?), but a Wendy's employee caught me exiting the women's room, and asked if it was out of tissue. He said he was going to go get some, and would be back soon. So I wait. And wait. I would've just grabbed a handful of napkins, but 1) that might have clogged their toilet, and 2) there's no way in hell I'm letting this Wendy's employee think I went to the restroom with no toilet paper. Ah, vanity.  10 minutes later, the Wendy's bringer of toilet paper still hasn't shown, so I decide to walk over to the Captain D's and pee there. 

I HATE Captain D's. I've never seen a particularly clean one, and they (of course) ALWAYS smell of old fish. But Captain D's is the closest thing to a toilet I see, so I go. And wouldn't you know it? Their restroom is actually pretty clean. Except. Except someone was apparently out of toilet paper, and used napkins to wipe. Which of course clogged the toilet. (Wasn't this the very situation I was trying to avoid back at Wendy's??) At this point, Aunt Flo is getting ready to bust the dams, as it were, and I'm desperate. So I do the only thing I can do. I grab the closest thing to a plunger I see (a scary looking toilet brush), and plunge away. Mission accomplished (and one of the few occasions in which I wash my hand before AND after I pee). 

The rest of the drive home went well, unless you count it being a 9 hour drive. Across Alabama and Mississippi. Yeah. Not even the cows are interested in their surroundings. I make it to Oxford, and with a huge sigh of relief, pull into my complex. The SECOND I pull in, my other cat, Brownie, starts the tell-tale heaving. Sure enough, she barfs. After being fine ALL DAY LONG. And so as not to be shown up, Blondie barfs, too, just for good measure. But of course it was just bile this time, as there's no way he could have had ANYTHING in his stomach after the morning's pyrotechnics....

I unload everything, and run to the restroom for myself, where I discover that, guess what? I'm completely out of toilet paper. My plant-sitters have been wiping their asses with Kleenex.