Ramblings: Confessions ; Rant: I Fly SWA

I lied. Alright? I admit it. I told you I'd be back yesterday to finish up putting on the pictures from the weekend and I didn't. And when I sat down to do it today, I realized that the camera bag containing the camera, containing the memory card, containing the millions of pictures I need to download is presently contained in the trunk of Jeremy's car.  And that car is apparently parked at the airport. A fact that I learned only because on his way to the airport, he called and wanted me to find his flight confirmation number on the computer. 

"Confirmation number? Flight? What are you talking about?"

"I'm on my way to the airport."

"What? Where are you going and why didn't I know you were traveling today?"

"I'm only going for the day. I'll be back by this afternoon. It's no big deal."

Doesn't he remember that instead of watching the Oscars last night, we tuned in to the 2 hour Dateline special about the horrible plane crash of the Air France plane in 2000? And how they showed that even little, weird things can all combine to cause catastrophic problems that could end with tires and fuel tanks bursting into flames and HOLES. IN. THE. WINGS. Yeah, I know---holes in the wings. The wings that are supposed to help keep you up in the air. And then, like really vital fluids and wires get sucked out of the busted up wings and go flying right past the passengers' windows. 

And if he did remember watching all this, doesn't he think twice about perhaps saying, "See ya. I may or may not be home tonight. Just depends if the airplane tires hold up under pressure. Nice knowing ya. My life insurance policy is all paid up and should be enough to cover the cost of boarding school for the kids and your stay in the mental hospital."? 

I mean, at least a quick mention that his workday commute will be slightly riskier than the norm. You know, so I can worry and stress about horrible airplane malfunctions or random flocks of birds until he calls after he lands. OH WAIT. He didn't do that either. Good thing I can use my mad computer hacking skills to bust into his work email and make sure that he's still alive by seeing whether or not he's been checking his email. 

Sadly, he is traveling for work and was NOT on his way to fly home a specially ordered ice machine that makes those little tiny balls of ice like Sonic. But that's definitely going to be a part of our next kitchen. And there will be a soda dispenser that automatically mixes Diet Coke and Diet Dr. Pepper so I don't have to do it by hand. Ahhh, one day my plan will come together. 

 

And I really do intend to get to that camera bag as soon as I can. Alot sooner than I'll be seeing my custom ice maker sittin' next to my Diet Coke tap.