Tomorrow morning we were supposed to depart to Vermont to spend a week with the in-laws. Flights were booked. Cars were reserved. Accomodations were arranged. What could possibly go wrong?
My wife WHOM I LOVE VERY MUCH has this endearing habit of sabotaging the very vacations she has planned. Of course many people have traveling idiosyncracies. Some people travel with sleep aids, like a special pillow or stuffed animal. Others have kooky superstitions about airline travel. Hank's charming idiosyncracy is to wait until the final days (or minutes) before the trip and then manifest some situation which makes me beg her to cancel the trip.
The fun part is that I never know in advance what crazy gambit she'll employ. Will she hide the suitcases? Will she get arrested. Who knows!
This time she unhilariously threw her back out. She's been fairly immobile for the last four days and is under doctor's orders not to fly anywhere tomorrow. So, we loaded up the medicine cabinet with all sorts of prescription goodies and delayed our flight by 24 hours. Hopefully the extra time and pharmaceuticals will enable her to spend 6 hours sitting in an airplane seat. If not we've got a week to kill and a bottle of Vicodin.