My plane from San Diego got in last night at 10:45. I figured another half hour to get our bags, get to our car 700 miles away in remote parking, and then another 40 minutes to drive home. Wrong. Frickin' O'Hare. Why does it take so long to get the bags? And the whole while we were near this icky inbred family with two mulleted teen daughters and two icky, whiny, bratty children who the parents ignored the entire four hour flight. And you'd think that past 11:00 on a weeknight would mean no traffic, but that's when they do the construction (when AREN'T they doing constriction?!) on the highways. So we sat for the longest time- at least 45 minutes- to go three measly miles, where we finally got off to take an alternate route. We got home at 1:00 am, and Matt promptly made some ramen. Tobin was meowing at us like crazy. I think he gets more attached as he gets older, just like I get more attached to him. Such a cutie. We all then slept in until 11:00 am today. But I was still very good and productive, writing up a storm at the library and then heading to the gym for my Zoomba class. Love the Zoomba. It's like dancing, but it's exercise! Now if only my gym would offer one of those strip exercise classes. Not that I want to take my clothes off at the gym, but it sounds like it would be so comical that you'd forget you were exercising. Unless you have to wear high heels. Cause I'm not very good at that. Has anyone out there tried one of those classes?
I was supposed to go to the dentist tomorrow, but (so random) my therapist called me on my cell phone while I was away to tell me that the dentist- a new one for me who my therapist recommended- had to cancel and couldn't get hold of me. One of the reasons I was trying a new dentist in the first place was because my other dentist kept cancelling. How is this acceptable? So I'm not quite sure what to do- make an appointment with my old cancelling dentist, or with my new cancelling dentist?