A Long Day Deserves a Long Post
April 11, 2008

Layers of Pink

Two days ago, I started writing something about my make-up experience (because I'm sure you're just DYING to know how that's going), but I never got around to finishing. As much as I'd love to get it done now, I'm going to wait. Because first, I feel compelled to tell you about the day I had yesterday.

It started with a dentist appointment that I had on my calendar but my dentist did not. Despite not getting a confirmation call the day before, I showed up at his office at 8am anyways, where I was greeted with a quizzical, "Did we have you down for today?" look? Luckily (depending on how you look at it), the 8am person that was scheduled had canceled so they could fix my cavity. Uh, yay?

I arrive at work, and a co-worker and I get online to start registering for a conference we want to attend next month. We go to the site, and it turns out there's several registration options. One gives us the chance to go on some design studio tours, another one doesn't but we can get a set of mp3's of some of the conference sessions. However, this isn't entirely clear to us, and it takes a couple of phone calls to figure it out. Once that's sorted we then have to pick which sessions we want to attend. There is a plethora to choose from, and it takes a while to work out a schedule where we go to the sessions we want and still allow ourselves time to wander around Boston. Once this is done, I head out to meet My Favorite Cousin for lunch.

When I return to work, I call our travel people and start booking flights and hotels. Sounds easy, right? I WAS ON THE PHONE FOR THREE HOURS. Booking the flights was relatively painless (though we're flying out of a less convenient airport in order to get a direct flight that departs and arrives at decent times). The hotel accommodations proved to be more difficult because apparently a lot of out-of-towners are going to this flippin' conference AND half of Boston's youth is graduating that same weekend and all their relatives need hotel rooms. SERIOUSLY.

Here's the scenario: I've got the phone to my ear with one hand, and I'm using the other hand to look up the addresses for the list of hotels offering discounted rates for conference attendees. I give the travel agent a hotel name, she puts me on hold, calls the hotel to see if they have rooms, gets back on the phone with me to say they're full. REPEAT FIVE TIMES.

Finally, the last hotel she checks has rooms. BUT they're only for the last 3 nights of our stay. So now we start searching for a hotel for the first night. She manages to find one and books one room, and by the time she tries to book the other room, it's gone. Neither one of can believe it's this hard to find a hotel room for a conference that is a little over a month away. She searches again, tries one more hotel and manages to book two rooms. I thank her profusely and finally get off the phone.

Now it's after 5pm and I have actual work that needs to get done before I leave. A little before 6, I send my last e-mail for the day and as I'm leaving the boyfriend calls to tell me he's going with his brother to look at a bike in Santa Rosa. I'm totally okay with this because I was planning on going to belly dance class (which I was going to be late for if I didn't hustle my arse home). Then he says, "You might want to lock the door when you get home because the police had our block surrounded earlier while they were looking for someone."

Because you know, I wasn't stressed out or anything BEFORE he told me that.

To make a long entry short: I made it to dance class on time, and then ended up going to Casey's house after class so I didn't have to sit in my previously surrounded by cops apartment by myself.

As you might imagine, I'm incredibly glad that it's Friday. In fact, I think a cocktail or two might be in order.



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© Whitney Brandt-Hiatt: All writing, images, and photogrpahy are the property of Whitney Brandt-Hiatt unless otherwise noted.