Dropped all four boys for a month at sleep-away camp yesterday for the first time in, well, EVER!

Despite our intention to kick off our first major chunk of time alone together in over 14 years driving home in one car, the “guaranteed” U-Haul trailer we were going to load up and then dump near camp was, ummm, invisible at the pick-up location. Trying to get to the bottom of the situation was a barrel of laughs in phone prompt hell. At the end of the process, I apparently got to speak to the president of U-Haul—a lady named Gina with no last name! (She must be close personals with Cher. And Madonna. And Sting.) She was so polite and courteous to me!

Me: “Ma’am, do you have a supervisor?”

Gina: “Ah AMMM da supah-visah!”

Me: “Okay, but who do you report to?”

Gina (indignant): “NO-buddah!”

Me (playing along): “Really! So you’re the boss?”

Gina: “Yup, ah ammm!”

Me: “In the whole U-Haul company, there’s no one higher than you?”

Gina: “Das rahhhhhhht!””¨”¨
Me: “So you’re the president of U-Haul?”

Gina: “Yup. I’ze da prezzy-dent!”

Alrighty then! Clearly this was the express train to insanity. Disgusted by such utter ridonculousness, I hung up (it’s thoroughly anticlimactic not to be able to slam down a cell phone), and sucked up the fact that we were going to have to drive home in separate cars.

And in the end, it was a blessing indeed. Because I got to do the deadhead run singing at the top of my lungs to my “HAPPY HAPPY!” playlist (“I will be your knight…in shining armor…riiiiiiding across the desert…on a fine Arab charrrrrgerrrr…”), all the while watching “Irwin iPhone” in my rearview mirror chattering away to all manner of important people. “¨
But the best part? Four happy campers—three reunited with bunk buddies they’ve been with for years; and the fourth, a first-timer, who could just barely muster enough interest in our departure to glance back from his game of catch with a new buddy to say goodbye. No doubt he will be the mayor by dinnertime.

So now what?

Well, first, a lonnnnnng EXHALE, followed by a mani/pedi. After that, a month of thinking my own thoughts, reading magazines and trashy novels, daily cocktails, and delighting in this luxurious quietude!

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