After waking up in a nice, comfortable king size bed (Matt graciously offered his) I’ll shower with familiar products and scrub my face no less than four times to rid my pores of any mold residue. Then, I’m going to dry my hair. I brought mine here but I have no desire to blow hot air on my head for ten minutes. It's been used once as a clothes dryer. Not only am I going to dry my hair, I’m going to actually DO it. Here, I have two hairstyles; up and up, either in a bun or in a ponytail. Then I’ll apply makeup. Not much. Just the normal routine that I had to abandon here for fear I’d end up looking like Gene Simmons after my mascara mixes with sweat.
Then I’m going to get into my car and drive to a coffee shop. Sure we’ve spent hours in internet cafes. And yes, we’re in the land where coffee began. But they don’t share it as much as we do at home. They don’t do big coffees here and they don’t do takeout. For avid coffee drinkers like us, it takes all of three minutes to finish our teacups (they can’t even be described as mugs). Matt attempted to get a coffee to go and got a small amount poured in a plastic white solo cup set in a Styrofoam cup used as the sleeve. So I’m going to drive to Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts or both and get a giant coffee to go.
And then maybe I’ll get a little lost driving…just to be able to drive again. (Although, I’m sure that I’ll have enough about four hours into our seventeen hour drive home.)
During coffee runs and driving around, I’ll still be relishing in the fact that I’m wearing jeans. I have yet to wear pants for fear that I’ll never be able to peel them off or I’ll pass out from overheating. Even though it’ll be unnecessary, I think I might even wear my high heeled ankle boots (after I scrape the mold off of them). I’ve been only able to wear functional, destructible shoes since we’ve been here and I plan to functionally destroy them before we leave.
From there, I’ll make a stop at the Red Box and rent a new release. Repeats of Conspiracy Theory just aren’t cutting it. And last night’s new HBO movie, Ghost of Girlfriends Past, prompted a more amusing debate about the demise of Matthew McConaughey’s career than it entertained us.
With enough coffee in my cup to keep me happy, I’ll call Verizon and finally get off this ridiculous international plan and reactivate our internet card. And I will immediately call someone and talk for as long as I want without a delay and without being interrupted by calling card robots counting down minutes before it abruptly disconnects. Of course, I’ll be stationed on the couch for the duration of this call, only to move to take off my heels - maybe.
Before starting the movie, I’ll flip through the channels, all of which I can understand. I’ll even use the digital cable guide and trust it’s telling the truth. And I will open my laptop and go online without being forced to eat or drink at the same time. I’ll check my email, scroll through some Facebook statuses. I’ll even look for a job. All without being rushed by a draining battery and no power source.
And then we’ll go to the mall to most likely start and finish Christmas shopping. I’ll get my fill of the decorations and the songs and the Christmas cheer that I'm already starting to miss. But after a half hour of shoving through stores and standing in lines, i'm sure I’ll be satisfied until next year so we’ll head to the grocery store. I promised Matt I would attempt to make sushi while at his house so I’ll need ingredients. I’ll spend way too much time in each aisle, not because it’ll be like a scavenger hunt, but because there will be so many options I won’t know which to get.
We'll return home, mud-free, with full grocery bags carried only a few feet from the car to the house which is a good thing because I’ll probably have to juggle my second coffee of the day. I’ll be able to put the grocery bags on the counter without stretching and start cooking without standing on my tiptoes.
And while I’ll be excited that I made it through the day without breaking a sweat or swatting a bug, I’m sure I’ll be reminiscing about the beach that was once 10 minutes from my house and missing the warmth that was always breathing down my neck. I’ll be wishing my tan wouldn’t fade so fast and that the sun was around to help it stay a little bit longer. And I’m sure, while dozing on the couch watching a second movie, that I’ll be wondering what happened. How did the vacation I once considered endless come to an end so quick…
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