(Or: it’s not Wednesday, and I’m early (or late?) for the Whining Carnival, but here I go anyway.)

Have I mentioned how freaked out air travel makes me? I get all sketchy and can’t focus the night before and pretty much the whole time until I get where I’m going. Which is why this trip–involving SIX takeoffs and SIX landings over the course of 9 days–is really just annoying the hell out of me.

Plus, I’m bummed about the retrospectively-bad decision GB and I made to not spend Christmas together. And the Wrangler is sad that he’ll be here with no other grownups, checking on my cats and spending Christmas with just the Li’l Wrangler (and the Li’l Wrangler’s evil mother, the Wrangler’s ex–which is not improving his mood any). And I’m always nervous about leaving the cats–I know the Wrangler will check on them once, and the Bumper Pool Boys will check on them twice, but that’s still a lot of days they’ll be alone. And have I mentioned that my dad has been hanging out at my mom’s for the past week, waiting for me to get there?* I’m getting stressed out just thinking about it. And I can’t find my bottle of leftover Vicodin, and what if I get a kidney stone on the plane?**

So I had to bust into the tiny bottles of Vendange merlot I bought to hide in my suitcase–you know, for drinking at my mom’s after they’re all in bed and I’m awake and wondering why the hell I ever quit smoking.*** But damn, ,these bottles are small. And bad, but whatever, Ms. Jug O’ Rossi, right? So I’ve had two. And I think I’ll just have to try to hit a liquor store on my way to the airport for more.

This is a sad, annoying post. I apologize. If anybody feels like telling me that the flight part, at least, will be fine–I’d appreciate that. Otherwise, I have a feeling I’ll post a few more of these whiny little fuckers before I leave tomorrow morning.

*Since my dad’s recent divorce from my barely-older-than-my-sister “stepmom”, dad’s been spending a lot of time hanging out and traveling with my mom. There’s a 10 hour drive between their houses, but that doesn’t seem to be hampering his bimonthly-or-so visits. Dad’s lonely, and old, and bored, and mom doesn’t mind having him around (it’s been 16 years since their divorce, and they’ve stayed friendly the whole time), though she does keep calling me and sighing, “I have to divorce that man eventually”. I find it all kind of entertaining. Except when I visit and they’re both there, because helLO dysfunctional old family dynamics! So this Christmas will be me, my mom, my dad, and my older sister’s family–nice, overall, but I guarantee I’ll be eight years old again immediately. Oh, and did I mention that no one in my family drinks at all, except my asshole brother-in-law, who I attempt to tolerate (despite the fact that my sister barely tolerates him) because he’s my only link to alcohol while I’m there? And this was WAY too long for a footnote. But really, I’m hoping assuming there will be good blog stories after all this.

**Um, this would be anxiety at work. I’ve had 2 kidney stones, ever, and they were both in the same week. It’s true that they recur, and if you’ve had one, you’re pretty much having more. Someday. Probably. But worrying about the plane–well, that’s like worrying about having a panic attack on the plane–unlikely, until I start thinking about it, and completely self-destructive. But yet…

***Yes, I’m in my mid-30s. What? What? What?

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