I’m trying to come back to life. It’s been a rough rough seven days. Sorry. And hell, I feel like I’ve done a lot of apologizing lately, but the people who really matter don’t seem to care about my apologies.
Saturday. I’m sitting on the plane on the runway at Dulles, I lean my head against the window. I look out at the torrential rain coming down, pummeling the planes as they take off in front of us, waiting for one of those planes to just not make it into the air. Waiting for it to come back down, crashing in the Dulles suburbs. Or maybe that’s the fate saved especially for my plane. “Life can’t suck any more than it does right now,” I thought. Well, I guess it could. Of course it could. Someone could be dead. Bite my tongue. But no, just me who feels dead.
I’m already panicked about flying and have plane crash dreams averaging about once a week now. But add to my fear of the weather the fact that I’m really sick. Allergies turned into a really bad chest cold. Head clogged. Ears clogged. How can I fly like this? I just coughed up the contents of a third world country sewer and several vital organs. You’d think they would put me in quarantine.
Instead I’m sitting next to a woman obviously bothered by my sniffling and coughing. And “sitting next to” is questionable because she’s spilling over into my seat. Oh, am I bothering you that much? Sorry I’m having trouble breathing but I’m a little stuffed up and part of your shoulder and arm is crushing my good lung. Suck it lady. Go find an empty seat next to a seemingly healthy person. My germs will find you sooner or later.
I’m sad to report that what’s his name and I are no more. I appreciate all your well wishes on that front, but the curtain is down on that show, and the theatre as they say on Mondays, is dark.
Arriving in Phoenix, I’m hit with massive amounts of nostalgia. I lived here with my boyfriend of 6 years exactly five summers ago. In fact, we moved to Phoenix on April 25, 2001. I returned to Phoenix on April 22, 2006. I forgot how much I loved it here. I forgot how much getting away from home can give you clarity.
I’ve already paid hundreds of dollars to extend my trip. The return flight is sufficiently delayed, extra time at this resort cost more a day than my motorcycle payment and condo fees, and I’m driving a rental car that is three times the size of my own vehicle at home. But still, life seems simpler here.
I feel like sending for the dogs and staying here for good. I could change the name of the blog to “Velvet in the Valley” or “Velvet in Phoenix.” It might not be as juicy, but it would sure be easier on me. I could start over. New life. New friends. New blog. Leaving all the old mistakes behind. I love my job, but my company does have a divison here. Sigh. It’s fun to dream. I haven’t called my boss yet to tell him not to expect me back for a while. I should really go do that.