We set out at 10 AM for a wedding in Delaware. The first of our friends to get married were now hosting the numero uno wedding of our cherished offspring. It was a big circle of life moment.
I’m not a good packer, never have been. I always begin the process impersonating someone carefree and empowered: you can do this easily, Girl, you are a seasoned traveler. Forget it. My brain blows a fuse every single time, smoke exploding from my hairline. Hubby can pack in 30 seconds, but he always forgets something. He once forgot his tuxedo in another state, so there.
It was only one night away but there was no room for fuck-ups. There’d be no time for emergency runs. Strategic packing was the task at hand and I had so much stuff. In hindsight, a bulletin board montage like crazy Carrie from Homeland would have been a great idea, chugging wine and Lithium. Imagine the fun I could have had!
I made it from Westport to the Darien rest stop before I had to pee. For those of you not familiar with the harrowing Connecticut Turnpike, this is 3 quick exits.
Welcome to my world.
We had a gorgeous room, a beautiful suite that I trashed like Led Zeppelin circa 1973. Instead of drugs and alcohol, I was spread around the room like a 300 cow dairy farm. You could see my stuff from space.
Weapons of Construction
I wore a red Donna Karan dress, tight on top but loose and comfy down below. Herve Leger bandage dresses? Hell no. Been there, done that; any excuse to not wear Spanx, the 21rst century version of a girdle. Nothing can ruin a fun evening more than being mummified. Did you know that the secret to peeing while macerated in Spanx is to cut a hole in the crotch? My friend Miki taught me that, god bless her. TMI? Just sharing what I know and keepin' it classy.