Friday, June 24, 2011

We'd Like Two Rooms, Please

For the past thirty years I have traveled alone.

Alone would be a subjective term, being as it would mean I was in the company of anywhere between one to three children at times.  In those cases alone would mean I was the lone adult. 

In years of late it has indeed meant I have been alone, by myself, with no other humans present.  I have taken to hogging the bed, ignoring the television, and relishing the quiet.

But a funny thing happened on the way to the most recent trip.  Hubster decided to retire.  And by retiring he was able to accompany me for the first time ever on one of my sojourns down south.

I had an inkling we might not be quite as well matched in the travel department as I'd hoped when we started the drive out, but I decided to ignore that niggling little feeling.  We made it to the first birthday party of the Prince without incident, after all.

But then...but then...he didn't follow MY directions the rest of the way there.

Uh oh.

When we got to the hotel I knew we were in trouble.  THERE WAS ONLY ONE ROOM.

One room for me to go to sleep in by 9 p.m.  One room for him to watch television in at an earsplitting volume until 11 p.m.


I must confess that I do not play well with others.  Especially if I do not get my sleep when I want my sleep.  Or, to paraphrase:  IF MOMMA AIN'T HAPPY, AIN'T NOBODY HAPPY.

I tried.  Truly.  I covered my head with pillows and stuck earplugs in my ears.  But HE JIGGLED THE BED.  He turned the volume waaaaay down, but there was that COUGHING thing he did.  Finally I asked him to go have a beer in the bar so he could watch TV and I could sleep.  Only then I felt guilty, so I didn't sleep.  And then he did that coming-back-to-the-room thing.  With more coughing.  More jiggling.

Finally, blessedly, we both went to sleep.

The next day we went to the hospital to be with family.  Only he isn't a hospital person, so he was bored.  He walked.  He paced.  He explored.  He went back out to the car in scorching heat and listened to the radio.  It was hell on earth for him.

And so we took pity on both of us and decided he needed to go back home early.  Because we are nothing if not people who like to be hit over the head with baseball bats a time or two before we get the idea that something doesn't work.

We called The Girl and had her meet us halfway home, then transferred Hubster to her car.  I drove back to the hospital, and she took Hubster home.

And there was great rejoicing in two cities in the land.

1 comment:

Linds said...

You know, I know EXACTLY what you mean. When Geoff was at sea, he was away in 3 month blocks, or 4, and then home for a few weeks, and then gone rinse and repeat. For 27 years. And I got used to it being MY bed, and MY room. My house. My kids. Hmmm. So when he came home, I used to say the first 2 weeks were like being newly married. The 2nd two weeks were old married, and the third 2 weeks, if we got there, it was a race to see which of us would call the shipping company to see how soon he could return to sea.

Life was different to anyone else, believe me. I always did think that it was grossly unfair for all the kids to have their own room, and for the 2 adults to have to share. Or at least have a room solely for their own pursuits. Like TV watching. You will have to start booking luxury suites, m'dear. Now THAT would be fun!