And Away We Go

It is the first time in almost two years that Scott and I will not see each other on the weekend.  Thank God I will have a lot to keep me busy. 

Mowing the lawn which has grown over my shoes and tickles my spindly little ankles.
Weeding the planted areas which look like they were copied from 1313 Mockingbird Lane.
Cutting and burning the two ton pile of branches I chopped from the hedges (and inadvertently smoking out my neighbors.)
Buying Pat a decent shirt to wear to the White House and a few things for school that aren't all black and don't have snarky Family Guy or Beavis and Butthead cartoons on them.
Packing clothes that go from museum to restaurant to Mall. Times three.
Packing shoes that look great with the clothes I've packed and won't leave my feet blistered and bleeding if we walk for miles.
Packing snacks for the bottomless pit teenagers who swear they will starve to death between meals.
Packing things to do in the hotel room at night - cards, books, magazines - in case the neighborhood is not kid friendly.
Planning to leave the cat by herself - food, water, toys, clean litter box. I may as well leave the TV on and rent a movie for her, too.

Shortly after noon, the kids and I kiss the kitty goodbye, pile our stuff into the car, turn on the iPhone GPS and head out.  The traffic is heavy for the duration of he ride. Heavy rain makes for white knuckle driving.  The last few miles into and through our Du Pont Circle neighborhood to the new hotel we're trying is like a corn maze.  I am in my usual I-Don't-Know-Where-I'm-Going panic by the time we arrive.

We check in. We unpack.  I familiarize myself with the safe and stow the valuables. The kids and I head out into the neighborhood to check out our surroundings.

Beautiful homes. Quaint boutiques and restaurants.  Lively pubs and coffee shops.  I want to move here. I could walk around for hours. I'd probably put a downpayment on something if I had another hour or so.

But the kids are a little whipped and after a jaunt around a few blocks and we decide to head back to the hotel for a little relaxation before we go out for dinner. We have chosen a cute brick oven pizza place for later.  In the meantime, I foresee a glass of wine for me, a lemonade and a snack for the kids.  A pile of tourist brochures for me, and a little TV for the kids.

We get to the room and I send the kids out with the ice bucket in search of the elusive ice machine. I kick off my shoes. I call Scott.  I check Facebook. There is a knock at the door.

It is the housekeeper.

I am in a flop sweat.  My kids have been out of my sight for 4 minutes. What could they have done already?

She's holding something up.  "Found deez on floor.  Day yours?"

I look at what she's holding in her rubber gloved hands.  To my everlasting horror, I realize what it is.

It is my pack of birth control pills.

I want to croak. First I clog the toilet in Key West. Now I leave my birth control lying around the hotel in a strange city. 

My first thought is to check out and find another hotel. Check in under an assumed name.

Instead I take the pills from her and thank her profusely.  I toy with the idea of saying something like, "Oh, thanks. These are my friend's pills. She's always dropping something. Pills, condoms, you know." She smiles and pushes her vacuum down the hall dragging the chord behind her.

As I turn away and shut the door I make a note to grossly overtip her. Hush money. God only knows what the rest of the trip will bring.