I havent' seen the PSA about folding not rolling clothes. That seems really really dumb.

I still have 260 words left to put on my essay. Right now "Striving for medicority" is totally my motto.

but they're talking about making you pack everything except (I assume) your ID and ticket?

I think people on the plane would beg mothers to travel with more. (Seriously, the idea of limiting carry-ons even more makes me feel anxious and I'm not scheduled to fly anywhere for months.)

Seriously, the idea of limiting carry-ons even more makes me feel anxious and I'm not scheduled to fly anywhere for months.

this. so this.

JZ, if the new!job won't go up on your counter-offer, ask for more vacation time/flex time/some other benefit.

They want you to fold your clothes.

This would only happen if, as they always ask, someone else packed my clothes. "Okay. I confess. My luggage was packed by a terrorist. A really neat terrorist. He came to my door and offered to pack for me."

Christmas of 2001, when my brother flew home for the holidays, he said that he knew that the TSA had opened and gone through his suitcase before he even saw the note they leave.

Me: "How could you tell?"

Bro: "Well, all the clothes were folded."

Me: "And?"

Bro: "Have you SEEN me pack? I cram wadded-up, wrinkled clothes into the suitcase!"

Me: "...are you going to write the TSA a thank-you note?"

I have chocolate penguins from L.A. Burdick's. They are too cute to eat.

Oh, good! I’m so glad she got to go there!

Timelies all!

Folding is bad. Rolling things up is The Way Forward because (1) you can squish more things in and (2) it doesn't actually make them any more wrinkled than folding.

is glad the TSA have nothing to do with her current travel plans. Loves on Emirates and Etihad.

JZ, making a counteroffer would never have crossed my mind either. Go for it, girl!

Laga, all the best with the asshate. (Other people said the sensible things already, so I'm just going to point at them.)

So, I have just eaten six, count them, six sweet & salty nut granola bars in quick succession. More inhaled, really.

I could argue that I need the energy, but it would be a lie. They were just...there. However, I could argue with greater accuracy that I fucking well deserve the momentary pleasure of the sweet/salt taste sensation (if not the more lasting sorrow of the ever-expanding hips), because today has been A Very Long Day. It has featured: a 7.45am parent meeting (with a lovely mum who made my jaw drop when she started [quite sweetly, but OMG] with her worry that her 6 yr old son might be gay [to which I was all "to be honest, I can't say that this possibility has crossed my mind, but I guess it's not impossible - but, you know, whether he falls in love with men or women when he grows up, there really isn't a blessed thing you or I can do to change who he is, and who he is is a terrific kid, smart, sensible, talented and funny" and she was all "yes, I know, I say to myself I love him, and I will love him no matter what, but I still wonder whether he is a proper boy..."]; teaching; more teaching; rehearsal for our kids' play; more teaching; meeting with my Key Stage Leader to talk over my Professional Development, during the course of which my relationship with my coworker came up, and I ended up in tears*; more teaching; parent meetings with all the French parents, during which the first set stayed for ten minutes into the next mum's slot, and left agreeing that they need to make an appointment to see me for longer at a more convenient time, then the second set got really pissed at me and I couldn't fix it and they stomped off cross, and the third set (the ones who have complained and tried to get their child moved) were sweetness and light; parent meetings with diverse other parents, who were very nice; dress rehearsal for my play from 6pm to 9.30pm.

I managed to pick up water and takeaway sushi en route to the rehearsal, but otherwise it's been pretty much nonstop.

Gah.

*Seems I'm a total freaking watering pot lately.

And now I've just inhaled a load of sugary badness. Because I'm clever that way.

I'm. So. Fucking. Tired.

I got ONE hour of sleep this morning. Possibly even less. Just to drive to the airport in heavy fog, while psychos endangered my life by driving 90 miles an hour down the freeway as if it was the middle of the sunniest day ever, and find out we were five minutes late for checking bags onto our flight.

I really want to go home, and just go to ND & Kristin's for Thanksgiving. S is one standby flight we don't get on board away from agreeing to this.

I've never NOT wanted to get on a plane so much in my life.

Oh, Sean. How completely sucky. I'm so sorry.

{{Sean&S}}

{{Fay}}

Harvey-purrs to all who want 'em.

Crap. S is now making noises about actually wanting to wait it out all day, and fly alone if she has to. I'm trying not to just lose it in this airport.