Four Time Zones and Three Maxed Out Credit Cards

I have no idea where I am, or what time it is. I just had dinner with D, who is a resident of Boston, so I’m pretty sure I’m in Massachusetts. Yesterday I was in Omaha. Then Denver. Then I got up at o-fuck-thirty this morning and flew here. And then I pit stop in Denver on Thursday night to fly to California. I am tired, and out of money, between having to put the hotel on my card (oopsie in the hotel/company communications, the company gave them a card #, but they need the physical card to swipe to charge it, so in the meantime, I had to hand over mine) and the cute new LBD I just bought at THE TWO MALLS CONNECTED TO MY HOTEL VIA SEXY GLASS PASSAGEWAYS OH MY GOD.

Fortunately, I have to work, tomorrow, and will therefore be distracted from buying too many more pretty things at the mall that houses Dior, Jimmy Choo, and Louis Vuitton stores. Not that I went in many of them.

Here’s the secret, though. I’m terrified to go to work, tomorrow. I’m terrified they’re going to realize I have no idea what I’m doing, and they are going to think “Wow, big mistake on our part, much like her hotel payment mix up, what WERE we thinking, hiring her?” I have visions of them yanking my pretty hotel room away from me, and taking my crackImean, company-issued-desktop-with-wireless-access, and making me sit in the airport for the next 48 hours, until I can get on a plane going home. Which they will regret having paid for, seeing as how I have been no use at all, and just a complete drain on company resources.

Plus, if my incompetence doesn’t do it, my hair will. I spent the entire Memorial Day Weekend in Omaha, which is humid, and now I’m in Boston, which is humider, and my hair is FREAKING OUT. I look kind of like a large, fuzzy, elongated peach in a cute, new, LBD, at this point. I’m sure it would frighten the beejezus out of the nice Boston people who pay for me to fly out here and sit in a lovely hotel room and shop on my first afternoon here. I can see them saying, “Pretty dress. Too bad about the hair devouring her head and most of the air in a three foot radius around it.”

So that’s kind of what I’ve been up to.

AUGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

There was just a loud, terrifying noise outside my hotel room! I'm not sure I am conveying the scariness of it. I will go investigate and report back.

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That took freaking forever mostly because I forgot how to un-deadbolt the deadbolt. You would think that would be asininely simple, but then you underestimate my incompetence. Much like my employers.

Anyway. The noise that sounded like boulders mixed with marbles on a steel drum (or the thoughts of a faux-mouse looking into Tatum's crazy eyes right before being flung across the living room) turned out to be the ice machine, which is conveniently located about two steps from my door. So I suppose I have that to look forward to, tonight. Anybody want a sno-cone?