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I had my own personal "Shawshank Redemption", and let me tell you, vindication rocks.

Circa Dec 15th, 2003 - 10:45pm.

"El Toxica" calls me up and says: "I'm too busy to pack tonight. I'm going to sleep now, I'll wake up at three AM to pack, so we can leave the house at five, and arrive to the airport by no later than six."

Oh yeah, the flight leaves at eight.

So I arrive at her house half past midnight. She tells me to set the alarm for O-Three-Hundred hours. I dutifully do so, and think nothing more of it. I trundle myself to the guest room, and also crash out.

At 5:30, her Dad comes down and asks her: "Why aren't you up? You're going to be late!"

Ms Toxin bolts up, and runs to my room, waking me up.

I get up, brush my teeth, gel my hair, and run to the front door, waiting like a lapdog for the master to be let out. Meanwhile, the Evil Toxic Bunny is downstairs trying to pack. She's done nothing. She didn't even take her suitcase out of the closet the night before.

I might look dumb, but I've been around long enough to know how true the old adage is, "Heck hath no fury like a woman PMSing."

And while it wasn't exactly that time of the month, you can understand the situation at hand.

1. losir sets alarm to three o'clock, with a dot denoting P.M.
2. She woke up super late, and her plan to pack at 3am is foiled
3. She hasn't even picked out a dress for Fido's wedding ceremony yet
4. It's FIVE-THIRTY IN THE BLOOMING MORNING!!!

Would you try talking to her??

Anyway, after about half an hour of me pacing upstairs, I finally go down to see what's up. I see her carrying one pair of socks, from her room to the basement rec room, where the suitcase lays empty. She returns to her bedroom, pulls out another pair of socks, and repeats the process. One pair of socks at a time, ladies and gents! Wonders never cease.

So with my full-on-monkey-sex-crazed mode blaring, I'm like: "What the blank are you doing, woman??"

She deadpans, "I'm packing. Why didn't you wake me, and why didn't you offer to help?"

Fair enough. "What do you want me to do? Because I ain't helping you pack your female articles...."

She replies, "Nothing. Now excuse me, I'm going to take a shower now." And slams the door in my face.

At Six-Twenty A.M. kids.

I'm ready to shoot somebody, I really am. I'm tugging both of my ears screaming, "Wooosa. Woooooooosa", and it's not helping. I'm about to rip open the bathroom door in all of God's fury, ready to risk seeing her in her birthday-suit and then, and then.... I dunno, throw some clothes on her, drag her by her cute ponytail, and toss her into the back of the minivan.

Okay, so I could never do that. I get embarassed when I see her exposed ankle. Never in my wildest rage would I open her bathroom door. So I hang my head in defeat and wait patiently upstairs.

Six-Fourty rolls around and we're finally on our way to the airport. As soon as we hit the onramp, early morning rush hour traffic hits us like an unexpected fart after a bean eating contest.

Now, if I was driving, I'd be on the shoulder like a bat out of stink. Unfortunately, (or rather, thank goodness) I was not behind said wheel. Her Dad was nice enough to give us a lift. But let's face it, he's no young buck, and cutting in and out of traffic for him is a thing of the past.

Anyway, we arrive to the airport at 7:15am, and I'm ready to bodyslam my suitcase.

Luckily there was no line up at the check-in counter, and better still, the Customs line up was swift. We arrive to the boarding gate at 7:45am. A bigger miracle have not occured in my life, let me tell you. I even had time to eat breakfast.

Of course, you know we had a fabulous time in Hawaii.

What you don't know however, is that the first night back in Toronto had us more jetlagged than a 747 not allowed to take off for five hours. (umm, okay... stupid pun.)

So the Toxic One and I are sitting in her room, looking at the pictures we took, laughing at all our clownish antics, especially our goofy friends.

When to my amazement, the clock radio suddenly started broadcasting.... Odd I thought, have we a ghost?

No, we have not. It turns out that the alarm was set to Three AM, and the Sick Bunny turned it off and went straight back to bed.

All this time, I was feeling so bad about screwing up the time, when all along, it wasn't me.

....Somehow though, I'm sure she still thinks it's all my fault. posted by losir at 4:06 PM