It All Fits in There?
After weeks of business travel, I am finally home to rest and recover. Well, except that Spring Break at my son’s college coincided with my arrival back home. I arrived home around 11:30 p.m., unpacked all my things, and thought I’d kick up my feet as I waited for my son to get home from his drive back from campus. He is spending his Spring Break flying out to Colorado to visit friends who live there, and since his college campus is three hours from the middle of nowhere um, rather isolated with regard to sizable airports, he booked his flight from a much larger Airport near our home. Yes, swing by the home to drop off his car and lure me into bringing him to airport at 0 Dark Hundred, official military time for long before the crack of dawn. Son arrived around 1 a.m. I was happy to see him – almost as happy as I was to turn in for the night.
I’ve forgotten how little sleep college kids actually need. He brought home a car full of laundry, which he then proceeded to do in the early hours so he would have a fresh cache of clothes. At the conclusion of the laundering, washer and dryer buzzers continually disrupting my sleep, Son awakens me at 4 a.m. to inform me his carry-on is torn, and might I have a have a carry-on he could use. What luck! I had no loaded weapons near my nightstand… er… I mean, I just unpacked my carry-on case a few hours ago. I walked into his room and noticed the enormous pile of clothes, all winter weight and bulky, since he is heading to the mountains, sitting atop the bed waiting to be shoehorned into my carry-on. I came to the conclusion that my carry-on must have been a really bad person in a former life to be subjected to this kind of punishment. I was intrigued to see how he could possibly fit all he intended to take into that little carry-on.
While the following video clip is not my son, it went something like this:
Half an hour later, in the wee hours of early morn, we arrived at the airport. He thanked me for the ride, I wished him a safe journey and a fun-filled week, and he asked me for money – again. All is well in my world.