I’d like to know what possesses us to do some of the things that we do.
By us, I mean myself, my sister, and my 2 best friends. By things that we do, I mean taking a trip that is better suited for a week and cramming it into 3 and 1/2 days.
I think it’s all the crack.
We left Lemon’s house at 7:00 pm on Thursday evening and made the 8 hour drive down to Charlotte, NC. For those of you out there who aren’t mathematicians, it means that the earliest we would arrive would be 3:00 am Friday morning.
We actually made it there at 3:30 am.
Not bad, considering that it’s monsoon season here on the east coast.
We crashed as soon as we arrived at the hotel, waking up only to eat breakfast, and then, like the vampires we are, we slept through most of the day. Once we woke up, we had just enough time for a pedicure and dinner before we made our way over to the Brad Paisley concert.
I mentioned monsoon season, right?
Normal people would carry umbrellas with them during monsoon season. Between the four of us we had zero umbrellas. ZERO.
Actually, that’s not entirely true. We took Lemon’s mom’s mini-van, and there was an umbrella in there. But that hardly counts since we stumbled upon it and weren’t intelligent enough (between four people) to have remembered to bring an umbrella.
I’m not quite sure how, but we somehow reasoned to leave the umbrella in the van since one tiny umbrella wouldn’t cover all four of us.
You can see that common sense and intelligence took a serious blow this weekend.
In retrospect I’m thinking that it would have been better to have had 2 drowned rats show up to the concert rather than four, but retrospect is as helpful as 1 umbrella to four people. That is to say – not helpful at all.
Fortunately, God only let his sense of humor go so far, and our seats were covered. But the walk from the car to our seats made Lemons and I look like this:
Um, not dry.
The excellent show made up for the fact that we were wet and it was a little windy/chilly outside, but I still can’t get over the rain. And the stupidity of four smart women.
Saturday, the day after the concert, we drove five hours over to Nags Head, and thank the Lord the rain was gone. We spent time on the beach, had dinner at my favorite seafood place of all time, did a little bit of site-seeing around the area, and then headed back to our hotel. (in Nags Head…we were certainly not stupid enough to drive back to Charlotte)
God’s sense of humor made a re-appearance.
My sister leaned over to me and whispered in my ear that there was a spider up front. She was pointing to it (quite unsuccessfully) and trying to muffle her hysterical laughter. By the time I asked her where she was pointing and I saw it, Lemon’s saw it and squealed.
Yes, squealed. Not screamed, or groaned, or shrieked. Squealed. Several times.
It was all we could do not to keep laughing.
Then, we lost him.
Not something that a car full of arachnophobes wants to do. You want to have your sites set on him the whole time.
Well, he finally re-appeared on the passenger side of the car, and our friend Em lost it.
She yelled, she shook, she screamed and begged. “PULL OVER. PULL OVER TO THE SIDE OF THE ROAD RIGHT NOW!” Before Lemons even had an opportunity to stop the car all the way (she was incapacitated by laughter at this point) Em hopped out of the car to get as far away from the 8-legged monster as possible. Fortunately, the spider met an untimely death when he fell into Lemons’ waterice.
That still didn’t take away the heebie-jeebies.
We were quite a site; my sister and Lemons laughing hysterically, Em doing a jig to be absolutely, positively sure that the spider was not on her, and me, on the verge of vomiting. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it before, but spiders and I have a long tumultous past. We are MORTAL ENIMIES. In fact, if you gave me the choice between being trapped in a room with a spider or being trapped in a room with Satan, I would choose Satan every time.
(Just wondering, if I did come to that crossroads at some point, what would it be for? Would it be some horrible reality tv show? Would it be a dream? How do you think Satan would react? Would he want to eat me or something? Just curious)
Needless to say, we mad it out alive, but I’m thinking that maybe next time, we should close all of the windows in the van. I suppose it all goes back to my original question:
What posseses us to do some of the things that we do?