Self’s Brain is FRIED

In just a few minutes, she has to be at the Notre Dame Writing Center.

AND Dear Hubby has just informed her that, unless she completes everything on a 20-item checklist before she leaves for New York on the morrow, we will not be able to take advantage of the super-duper low mortgage rates that are probably the only good side-effect of this current recession.

Hello!  Self was mostly at home today, this morning, this afternoon, and she had plenty of time.  Now, she has to spend a couple of hours in the Writing Center.  And there’s sleep, of course.  She has to get some sleep before boarding the plane.

As usual, where plans involving Dearest Mum are concerned, things are always complicated.  Dearest Mum told self it would be “crazy” to spend anything more than the (supposedly only) $12 bus fare from the airport to Grand Central.  But self google-mapped the apartment where she and Dearest Mum will be staying, and it’s eight blocks from Grand Central, and she just cannot imagine herself trundling a suitcase through the busy streets of downtown Manhattan at 8 pm on a Friday evening.  There’s only one thing for it:  she’ll have to take a cab, and then pretend to Dearest Mum that she actually took a bus!  (In case dear blog readers are confused, Dearest Mum left ahead of self.  That is, she flew to New York earlier today)

It has been such a thrilling month, September 2010.  This month, self discovered that Dearest Mum was in New York just two weeks ago —  for one night.  And self’s cousin went with her, and kept completely mum about it, even though she had just e-mailed self the day before.

And, two weeks ago, self had no idea that the son of a good friend of Dearest Mum’s was going to be getting married and, even more exciting, that the wedding reception would be in Grand Central Station.

Yesterday, self didn’t even know hubby was contemplating re-financing, and today he suddenly told self that we must do everything by today.

This was the month when self was supposed to be at Hawthornden, writing her heart out.  Instead she is here, dealing with Dearest Mum and assorted hangers-on, home mortgages, obese beagles, and almost the entire shoe section of Nordstrom’s Rack.

But —  banish the thought!  What is writing compared to dealing with a family like self’s?

Yesterday, Dearest Mum walked into self’s garden, greatly astonishing self, dear aunt in tow (of course).  She had bought self 25 pairs of shoes from Nordstrom’s Rack.  There were Stuart Weitzman loafers (in olive green and grey —  original price:  $285), Enzo Angiolini flats (about 10 of those, ranging from metallic bronze to patent leather black, to red), and Dirty Laundry gladiator sandals (red, black).  When self expressed concern that she did not have room in her closet for 25 new pairs of shoes, Dearest Mum dismissed her anxieties.  “So?  Just throw the old ones out and replace them with these!”  Oh, how brilliant!  Self only wishes the thought had occurred to her sooner!

The absolute last straw is that self discovered Noynoy (our new Philippine President) is traipsing through the San Francisco Bay Area and New York City next week.  In his wake, a sudden onset of relatives, who ask self to book their hotels for them.  To think, if self had been in Edinburgh, she would have missed all the excitement!  Alas, there are only three tickets available to Noynoy’s speech in San Jose next week, and none of those tickets are for self.  Which is just as well, since self doesn’t think he is the most scintillating speaker.

Anyhoo, if there’s one thing that’s absolutely certain, it’s that self is getting on a plane tomorrow morning.  And the stupidest week of the year will finally come to an end.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

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