storm warning.

Earlier this month, Princess had her first recital. I had been asking for a date for months. She didn’t tell me about it until right after it was over. Why? Because she wasn’t sure it was going to go well. :/ Of course it was great and now I missed it.

In an effort to stop that from happening again, I decided to stalk the NMU Music Department on Facebook, or “The Faces”, as my good friend, The Captain, calls it. That was a worthwhile use of my limited amount of free time, as a concert notice popped up on my feed. Nice try, Princess. I will be there. 

I used my Florida drive time to book a flight, a rental car and a hotel room. The concert takes place Monday night. So if I fly in Monday morning and return Tuesday morning, Hubby has limited time that he needs to keep everything afloat on his own. I invited my Mother along, which turned into a very good idea. 

Friday night, around 9pm, I get a text from my Mother asking when I’m picking her up. What the heck is she talking about? We don’t leave until Monday. I pulled up my Delta ticket and well, surprise, I booked a flight for Saturday. Seems that week in Florida, the long car rides, and the lack of sleep had caught up to me. Apparently I should pack a bag now. 

The cost of a ticket to Marquette is nuts right now, so we are flying into Iron Mountain and making the drive over to Marquette. This trip started out really cheap for the one night. I mean a 5 star hotel in Marquette costs around 60.00 a night. Now that I’m up to three nights of hotel and rental car, this has become the most expensive concert I’ve ever seen. Ha ha. Whoops. It will be worth it!

I have been in the airport for two hours. I’ve gotten two texts from home already. Hubby is on overtime and working this weekend, which I got wind of yesterday. He isn’t a big give notice kind of guy. That used to infuriate me, and now, thanks to better living through pharmaceuticals, I have zero reaction. Without Hubby home, Mr. Gatsby gets to revive his household government. He seemed very pleased and expressed that he may revert to a dictatorship and see how it goes. Cant wait for the 72 more texts I get from po’d teenage girls once that happens. 

Although less than ideal, leaving today was likely a good thing. I have consulted the calendar and I have now been yelled at by Daytime Emmy Nominee AT LEAST once a day over the last 12 days in a row. Fun. This morning I had to wake her at 7am for medication. She had not taken her nighttime dose. She also had her door closed, which is against her agreed upon safety plan. Door closed is not often a good sign and a guarantee for pot, nicotine or both, in the room. I open the door and she about jumps off the bed, exposing a vape laying next to her. Today’s flavor is cherry lemon, which sounds a lot better than some of the other flavors I’ve found. I don’t remember what the flavor was yesterday. However, I imagine blueberry mint is pretty gross and I find a fair amount of that one. Anyway, she yells at me for walking her up and wants to know why she’s the only one I wake up. Ummmm, because you are the only one that didn’t take your meds last night and it needs to be spaced out from your next dose? Or, maybe it’s just because I enjoy starting my day like this? 

Last night she was screaming at me over my 998th request for her to shut off the space heater on her room. We have had the most mild winter in Michigan that I can remember, it isn’t cold by any means. I’ve been sporting flip flops for a lot of it. A space heater isn’t at all necessary, and now she’s got the upstairs hovering around 70. My $281.00/month electric bill also doesn’t appreciate the space heater usage. I don’t even know for sure where the darn thing came from. I have asked more times than I can count for her to cut it out, much like the no food in the bedroom rule, my requests fall upon deaf ears. Of course this requires her to scream at me, obscenities and all. I find the best reaction is to just stay over the top nice to her in response and attempt to not engage. She just talks herself in circles, attempts to gaslight me and stomps off. 

She has certainly been stuck in a streak of tantrums lately. So much so, that I think instead of keeping track of them via a calendar, I will just start naming them in alphabetical order. I’m going to have to restart the naming each month so I don’t run out of letters. So, tropical storm Annabelle, I await your arrival on March 1st.