Disney, my side of the story

Persnickety and I went to Disney for my birthday. It was not the ideal we expected, but it was fun nonetheless. We left the spawn at home, and it was a grownup Disney Day for us.

We got a late start. Typical, and we love to annoy ourselves with this trait. It's one of the many ways we just "get" each other's quirks, and cast no judgment for it. No sense in pointing a finger at someone when the finger pointer has the same issue.
We wore Crocs, of lovely purple shades. OK, so I kind of like purple, but Persnickety does not. I guess I've gotten girly in my old age. We planned to take photographic note of all the Crocs we saw on feet at the park. It got nixed in favor of me keeping my gloved hands warm in my jacket pockets, while Persnickety steered the fart cart. I'm not going anywhere fast (or slow for that matter) with this story am I?

Perhaps I should break up the trip into segments. That way you can get manageable bits of the story and Persnickety can stop harassing me to post the story so she can get to telling her side. I'm sure it's all blogged out and ready to go. Overacheiver.

OK, so I had a heavy (literally) workload the same week my birthday falls on a Wednesday in the year Disney gives birthday guests free admission. The company I work for had us removing racks in the stores, so it was NOT a simple normal service call that I can get done in a day, plus the shipments arrived on Monday, delaying my start. So I was literally huffing and puffing Tuesday to get my work done in two stores so I could rest and recover on Thursday from the Disney trip. Needless to say, by the time I got done with everything at work, got home, tended the typical daily stuff, and got myself ready for travel and bed, it was 2 in the morning. I was told to be at Persnickety's house by 6. Uh. Yeah. I was tired, hit the snooze, got there a full 45 minutes late, when we should have been leaving her house. She made breakfast for me, because well...she loves me like a sister like that and it's well known traveling is better with a good breafast to start the trip. Her coffee measurements were wonky and so was the resulting coffee. I didn't complain, I've had worse believe it or not. Then Punk was being readied for school, but there was a meltdown. We finally got out the door after the Punk was on the bus. Two hours late. When we should have been well over halfway to Disney. It's very clear that I do not move fast when it's 35 degrees outside. Since it was so late we attempted to stop at the Crocs outlet store on the way, but waiting another 40 minutes for them to open was simply NOT an option.

I did mention that it was cold. I had coffee. My bladder is not as ironclad as Punk's. I would have settled for a gas station. Persnickety prefers to stop at a state sanctioned rest area. The particular one we visited has an open top to the bathroom, for ventilation. It's useless in the summertime and heinously cold when it's wintery here. I was afraid of skin freezing to the seat. I chose the handicapped stall because it wasn't below that open roof, and hopefully half a degree less cold than the other ones. I lined the seat with TP and held onto the handrails. Then I channeled Larry the Cable Guy....."The handicapped stool is the Cadillac of the poopin' stools" ran through my mind while I tried to avoid freezing my backside to a rest stop toilet seat. My bladder was so full, I was also reminded of a certain scene involving a drunken Tom Hanks in A League of Their Own.
Road trips leave me sitting too long, and the physical inactivity sends my brain into overdrive and we end up with some A.D.D. laden plethora of comedic regurgitation and old movie references.
I'd gladly post more, but this is long enough for one sitting and I have two teenage boys that have successfully annoyed me. I love witching hour don't you? That's my side of the story, and I'm sticking to it. More later on my Disney Adventure with Persnickety as my tour guide.