The Cursed Traveler

That’s me.

So, as it turns out, Caroline and I COULD have gone to Texas this weekend.  Which, we’ll just blame on a lack of effective communication.  There was uncertainty regarding Craig’s return, so we agreed to cancel the trip.  But, before I actually canceled the reservations (procrastination due to my desire to not be held hostage by mariachi band on-hold music), his return dates were solidified, unbeknownst to me.

Oh well.

Perhaps it’s for the best?  Especially since I have a sneaking suspicion that I’m a cursed traveler.

In the past year, every trip I’ve planned has either not happened or begun and/or ended horribly.  Caroline and I were supposed to go to Florida last July; a wee bit of family drama ensued; we didn’t go.  In August we went to Charlotte and Charleston with my sister; it started well, but ended with Caroline tossing her cookies in Charleston, which led to a week long sickness, thus ending my plans to visit my friend on our way home.  And in December we went back to Charlotte, only to get a flat tire 25 miles from home.  On Christmas Day.

And now this.

I quit.

I’m staying home.

It’s like that episode of SpongeBob SquarePants where Spongebob breaks his butt while sand-sledding and decides he’s better off staying indoors with his safe friends:  a used napkin, a penny and a potato chip.

As much as I love staying indoors, and believe me, I LOVE IT, I can’t help but feel pretty bummed about our missed opportunity to go to San Antonio; we were really looking forward to it.  Craig and his troops arrived back to Ft. Hood yesterday; they all went off to be with their families and Craig is stuck in a hotel room with nothing to do and no one to welcome him home.   Things could have been different this weekend, but my cursed traveling struck again.

Instead, Craig will be alone and Caroline and I will spend the weekend at the pool.  It opens today…..and it happens to be a million degrees outside.  Caroline will swim with friends and I’ll read and hydrate, while hiding under an umbrella,  as to not do too much damage to my aging skin.

I think it’s time for me to accept, once and for all, that life will never go as hoped and planned.


6 responses

    • Yes, but SpongeBob was a ‘lucky, lucky, lucky luck boy’ according to his doctor. It took 20 hours to glue, tape and staple his butt back together. Also, if he had another similar accident he might have ended up in an Iron Butt machine.

      I need a life.

      Send help at your leisure.

    • He’ll be back to VA in a couple of weeks; it all depends on how much leave they’ll let him take. Sometimes I feel like we spin a wheel like on Wheel of Fortune and get whatever the wheel (aka the Army) lands on. Some days it’s money; some days it’s lose a turn. And apparently I enjoy using television analogies. 🙂

    • Aw thanks, Carol. We have been enjoying the pool. Caroline and Rachel were the first ones in yesterday, which was a thrill of a lifetime for them. We just got back from trip two and we’re going again tomorrow. I’m tired just thinking about it and all I do it sit there!


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