Okay. This waiting around stuff is starting to get on my nerves.
At the beginning, I could see that it was five months away and we’re doing our happy dance starting the “COUNT DOWN” That usually gets the happy couple to begin the much thought about, much looked forward to, yes!! The couple is going home. I don’t know about you, but check the calendar every once in while. The calendar in the kitchen has life stuff, dentist, meeting, shopping, yah, you know life, life stuff“.
But the monthly reminder here in the computer room, it is the new Couples calendar, which I must say, the black boarders on each picture was a lot of black. In some cases, it took away from the beautiful pictures. Just mho.
This paper tick tock has all kinds of marks on it. Of course the first thing I do, after we are booked or about to, is to count the days and put in the number. I think this trip started soon after we came back from November 2011. So somewhere around 160-180. Hey. Hey, there’s one down1only 179 to go. whoopee.
Now we are, at this auspicious moment in time, 21teeny tiny little days. No sweat.
Yah right. Those teeny tiniest are freaking big man. Long time dude. I mean, I’ve been patient long enough. I want a recount. I think somebody’s been hacking in to my system and adding days when I’m not here.
Anyway, we all have this process in one way or another. We all have our routines, our carefully choreographed dance of the tropical isle. Mmmmmmmmmm It makes me smile just thinking about it.
And that’s what I am leading back to. I have been smiling for so long, my lips have become stretched out of proportion to the rest of my face. And my teeth keep catching little bugs and things. I’m having to floss every ten minutes.
And all this calm waiting is beginning to get out of hand. Selfish angry murmurs can be heard in the silence of my mind. I dare not let them escape through my mouth, because actually hearing the words “pissed off”, it will only start an avalanche of more pent up emotions. Almost everyone goes through it. But there comes a time, which is now, the patience, and mild manners, and calm crap, is wearing just a little thin.
And even though we only have those teeny tiny 21 days before we can become uncorked, if I over react and have what I call a “premature excitement moment“, then I’m going to peak long before we ever leave. That’ll suck. Then I’ll just mope around the house the next three weeks or so, and go around mumbling something about “I hate when that happens. It’s messy and it leaves me feeling exhausted”.
No what I have to do is refocus. Remember what the good times we’re gong to have, how much laughing we will do, how many good drinks we will have. All those good thoughts about what we are going to. We aren’t ready yet to actually DO any of those things, but we sure are feeling good that we are going to do the…………….I’m running out of patience.
So over this week-end, which is supposed to be very nice, I will set about to get all my ducks in a row. Neat. Orderly, No loose ends. But before that can take place, I will make a stop at one of my local liquor establishments and select from the nice clean counters, the 98 liter bottle of Absolute Vodka. What’s that? They don’t have a 98 liter size? No problem. I’ll just gather up lots of little ones.
So for all of you who are about to start the count, first time or repeater, those of you that are already involved in an active count. Hang in there. You’re going to love it.
And then there are the rest of us. Almost at the end, almost ready to walk out the door. Almost.
The people at work would love to have seen me gone last month. Well, maybe I’ve gone just a little bit overboard. Tough. Live with it. There, you see. Right there when I said “Tough Live with it”, that isn’t the usually happy go lucky Richie. No, that was harsh. It’s that patient thing again. Not a lot of reserve “patience”. Running low. Ack. Ack. I think I’m fading…………….
There is help heading this way. I can here the clippty clop of the gorgeous white stallion, charging towards me to rescue my beleaguered, frail, pale body. Don’t I wish.
No, it isn’t that easy. What I will do is repack my suitcase once again, and then rearrange everything. That will help to fool the part of me that will think, were going to go soon,
I must first cleanse my mind and my body in order to channel my strength and my fortitude, for the last few teeny tiny days that I still have to wait for and then we will be GOING!!
If any of you have a routine or a ritual or some ingenious method to make and keep you strong for the last mile, by all means, click yourself aboard. This Couples radical person will welcome any and all suggestions, comments, criticism, positive or negative input, by all means I hope you will share it with so many other lost souls like yourself. We must remain unified. There is strength in our numbers. We are, after all, Couples couples. Hear us crying and whimpering and rolled up in the fetal position, thumb in mouth and a sign that says, “DON’T TOUCH ME”.
Maybe we can bottle Jamaica time and bring it home and pour it all over our calendars. I don't know about you but time there is definately hyperspeed. No matter how long you stay, you always want at least 1 more day. This post was hilarous. Thanks for the laugh.
I have tried a variety of things to ease the pain of waiting. After returning from the last trip, I have left out some of the dirty clothes so that every once in while, I will grab one of my shirts and put it up to my nose and inhale. Deeply. In an instant, my mind has transported me to the very spot I was at when I was wearing that shirt in Jamaica. The problem with that is that after the first inhale, my mind wants more. Just one smell leaves me wanting more, and what I thought would help curb my desire to jump on a plane and go, only leaves me more anxious and more depressed.
I have brought back a small amount of sand from the beach. From time to time, I take off my sneakers and socks and rub my feet on the tiny pile of CTI land. That doesn't help either. Again, it leaves me wanting the whole beach to appear in my living room.
The fact is, regardless of what method I may use to calm my nerves or sooth me, it's just a momentary release. Jamaican music, sand from the beach, even smelling the shirt thing, can not be any kind of a substitute for being there. We all just have to suck it up, and wait our turn. I know. That's not much consolation.
So if you will excuse me now, I'm going to go grab that shirt, sit down on the patch of sand, turn up the reggae sounds and just cry. I always feel better after a good cry.