Pretending to Be Flexible
It was last minute. I had five unused vacation days from last year and I was graciously given permission from the day job to be gone the next week. And if I could do some writing on the weekend, and maybe a few shorter stories, that would mitigate the damage of such short notice. I could and did.
Flexibility ends with a baby. To consult on a comedy reality show in LA for a week, in a week, took some doing. On Thursday night, KilBaby's Dad, in the midst of a chunk of roadwork, flew back to New York to pick him up. They returned to San Antonio, so Texas Grandma could her grandmothering thing. I had a college date at LSU on Saturday night. But instead of flying home on Sunday, I bought a new plane ticket, flew to LA, rented a car, put myself up and pitched ideas from Monday to Friday. It was fun to write for television again, even briefly. The work was in my wheelhouse, and everyone was nice. Made new friendships, strengthened old ones. All good.
I returned to my empty New York City apartment last night.
My mom, California Grandma, is coming to visit this upcoming Saturday. We planned the trip many months ago. She's using all her vacation days so she can do her grandmother thing, which she hasn't done since she last saw KilBaby on Christmas Eve. I was reminded of this when I asked if she could do April instead. Her flight from the Bay Area arrives in NYC at 4:21PM.
But wait... KilBaby is still in Texas, right? Oh, prepare to be outfoxed, Reader. After I finish work on Friday evening, I'm taking a red-eye to Austin, renting a car and driving to San Antonio. I expect to arrive at Texas Grandma's house at 2 AM. And on Saturday morning, Kilbaby and I will drive back to Austin, fly back to NYC, arriving at 4:37 PM, which is just 16 minutes after California Grandma's plane lands.
Also, I have four spots that night.