Those who know me, know that I can take any run-of-the-mill molehill and turn it into a mountain in no time at all. I’ve been bestowed with few real talents; this happens to be one of them.
My penchant for making things difficult reached lofty new heights this week when I
planned cancelled planned cancelled planned cancelled planned! a trip to Ireland next month to see my brother and sister-in-law. I oscillated between going and not going with morose flair – annoyed about not being able to go because of how pricey the tickets are, and then agitated about going because I’m leaving my wife and kid for a few days, causing the wife to adjust her plans, and missing a family party.
I’m going to Ireland. Whee! Matt’s been living abroad (with a broad – my sister-in-law) for a few years now. They started out as a couple of crazy lovebirds in Philly, then he abandoned a lucrative career as a
soap opera actor corporate whore and followed her to London. They got married in Ireland, in her hometown, then finished up some graduate work back in Jolly Old. Now Kathleen’s got a gig as a lecturer in Dublin, and Matt’s going the Ph. D. route at the same school. Career students. Damn them.
So for all the time he’s been overseas, I’ve only gone to see them for the Nuptials. This has bothered me for a while, so I’m excited that I’m finally able to get over there, regardless of how many iterations the planning process went through. It’ll be 4 days, plus a day to travel home. I’m not crazy about long flights, but I think I’ll manage – hopefully, homeland security will allow little bottles of booze by then.