Oh, What Have I Done?

Yipes. How do I let myself get talked into these things?

Spousehole had suggested that he fly up and then drive down to S.C. with the kids, cats, and me. I thought it was a terrible idea. We would surely fight if we were cooped up in a vehicle together for 16 hours. It was be miserable and claustrophobia inducing. 4 people, 2 cats, 16 hours. Even worse, he wanted to drive it straight through without an overnight stop. Eight hours for me, eight hours for him. I could think of nothing more miserable. I told him that it would cost more money to fly him up than it would for the kids and I to stop for the night in a motel that takes cats. That worked. Spousehole hates to waste money, so the idea was dropped. Praise the Lord and Hallelujah!

I've told you all how much I adore my Dad, right? I have the best Daddy in the whole entire world. He would do anything for me or my kids (or my sister and her son). When my Dad talks, I listen. 9 times out of 10 he is right.

But this time, I think he was wrong and I let myself get talked into something I will regret.

Being a dad who worries about his baby girl and who has traveled long distances with unhappy pets and knows how insane they can be, he was pissed when he learned I had talked Spousehole out of flying up and driving with the kids and me. "The kids will be easier to deal with when you have another adult in the car. The cats will be easier to calm," he argued. I made my arguments about using the DVD player in the van to entertain the children, the fact that the cats will just go to sleep after a time, and that Spousehole and I will argue to the point of wanting to kill one another if we are cooped up that long together. He could not be dissuaded. I pointed out that with the cost of movers and the fact that Spousehole's company is giving us a mere pittance toward the move expenses (less than 25%), we just couldn't justify the cost. Then Dad starts in with "What if you get sick on the way down?" which is father-of-a-diabetic-speak for "What if the stress fucks up your blood sugar so bad that you crash the car and kill yourself, your children and your cats?" That's it Dad: prey on one of my greatest fears, however very, VERY unlikely since I regulate my blood sugars very well thankyouverymuch and have never, ever had a hypoglycemic episode while driving. Then, the coup-de-grace: "I'll pay for his ticket to fly up here. Just do it. Go book the ticket right now."

So without even discussing it with Spousehole, I sat down at the computer, got the cheapest one-way fare I could find and booked it. It will SUCK for Spousehole, because he has to change planes twice(!) but oh well. It was cheap, cheap, cheap. I will have to drive to an airport in another town 40 minutes away to pick him up because I saved $75 flying him there instead of our town, but the gas cost is still much less than that. And he will be here for my birthday, which is bonus. I doubt he'll get me a gift or anything crazy like that, but hopefully he will be nice to me. After all, I'll be an old lady and one must be nice to the elderly, right?

So despite my extreme misgivings, we are all driving down to S.C. together. One big happy. Right. Spousehole didn't even complain about me booking a plane ticket without discussing it with him. And about me booking a flight on a Friday (cheaper than Saturday) without first checking if he could take the time off work. Weird. Of course he was thoroughly pissed at me about some other things, so maybe buying him a plane ticket without discussing it with him was the least of the concerns in his eyes.

Gawd, I am seriously dreading this trip. I was kind of looking forward to driving with the kids and cats - in a "we're on an adventure!" and "I'm master of my own destiny!" kind of way. Now I'm just foreseeing being trapped in a vehicle with my perpetually pissed-off partner and our petulant, peevish progeny. Not pleasant. Not at all.

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