This morning had an ominous start: I didn't wake early enough to get the 6am flight and took my regularly scheduled flight. It was overbooked. Quite. They were looking for volunteers and I was looking to get home. Stat. Well, I didn't take the free ticket -- was greedy and kept my seat... and we were delayed by thunderstorms in the O'Hare area. We didn't actually leave until just before the next flight was taking off -- so I missed out on a free ticket and still got home late.
When we landed, I started making the requisite phone calls, the last being my mother. She had bad news... the conversation started out like this, "Don't cry..." and I knew that my cat had died. He died on Father's Day but she didn't want to tell me less I get upset on tour. Unfortunately we were stuck on the tarmac at DIA for 40 minutes before we could get into a gate, so I broke down on the plane crying -- trying desperately to keep it together. The news of my cat's death wasn't news so much -- he was 19 years old, I had said my goodbyes before I left, but I'm still wracked with guilt over it. I wish he hadn't died while I was out of town. The second bit of bad news from my mother is that she's "sick." This is a generalized "sick" not specific. I didn't want the specifics. Not while I was sitting trapped on a plane with 200 other people trying to get their connections. I'll find out about it later... but it can't be very good -- she doesn't tend to bother me with the unimportant stuff. At any rate, it was the perfect shit ending to a perfectly shit tour.
I'm taking two personal days and I'm scared that the Boss woman will be angry with me. Right now, today, this moment I don't care too much -- maybe 15%, but it's still nagging at me. How wrong is that!
The high of finding a wii and getting home to play with it has been replaced with sad feelings. At some point this will all be a funny story, just not today.