3:15 a.m: awake to battery powered alarm clock to find a. no power and b. a torrential downpour.
3:30 a.m.: do last minute packing. by candlelight.
3:45 a.m.: power comes on. no time to shower. blow out all candles, put on extra deodorant. double check kitty-care notes left for sister-in-law.
3:55 a.m.: feel guilty over dumping Handsome Tom at a kennel.
3:57 a.m.: fret about Zinda’s right eye. Something isn’t quite right, you’re sure, but then again you may just be an overprotective kitty-mom.
4:00 a.m.: skritch all of the kitties currently in the house. a lot.
4:10 a.m.: throw luggage (greatly scaled down from previous trips; go, us!) into back of car and make long and arduous drive to airport through continued torrential downpour.
5:10 a.m.: arrive at airport, get in line with luggage. Wait. And wait. Realize your flight number is not up on the board.
5:25 a.m.: overhear that something is up with the flight. Wait as your husband whips out his iphone, brings up the airline’s website, and discovers the flight has been well and truly cancelled.
::brief interval:: find out that our options suck, make the decision to say, “Sod this, then!”, commiserate with a lovely woman bound, or so she hopes, for her Atlanta home, and slog back out to the car.
6:02 a.m.: drive home through unrelenting rain. engage in a back and forth as to how this was a good decision, really it was, and how “we can try again in February!”, and have a who-can-find-the-silveriest-lining contest*
7:05 a.m.: haul luggage back into house and, since we’re up anyway, go Christmas shopping
2:30 p.m.: head back home to find Zinda’s wonky eye is wonkier. Call Dr. AwesomeVet’s office and get an appointment for later in the afternoon.
4:30 p.m.: return home with a mildly traumatized and hugely indignant Zee. After pokes and prods and drops and some intense scanning, Dr. AwesomeVet diagnosed her with (most likely) anterior uveitis. There are eye drops to be administered four times a day as well as instructions to monitor her progress, lack thereof, and/or a spreading to the other eye.
5:00 p.m.: retrieve Handsome Tom from the kennel. He is fluffy and soft, having been bathed and given a manicure. No sparkly pink polish, alas.
5:30 p.m.: return home once more. Crush the hopes of the other kitties that the big guy might have been gone for good.
5:32 p.m.: pour an enormous glass of wine.
*I won when I pointed out that, had our travel arrangements not gone entirely kaplooey, Zee would have spent five more days without veterinary attention. Poor little boo. She's in some pain (though less now) and very unhappy that we keep squirting her in the eye.