When you rise and shine too early on a weekend, sometimes your day doesn’t start and end the way you planned.
Case in Point: Yesterday. I was so exhausted the night before, I was in bed before the average 5 year-old. (Shocking behavior on a Friday night.) The next thing I knew, I was up at 5:18 a.m. Believe me, there’s nothing to do at 5:18 a.m. on a Saturday morning. I was wide awake.
Sometimes things can change so quickly — like a blur. Want to see a blur in action? Keep reading.
So, I’m up (sigh), wide awake for hours. I send a text message to my cousin at around 7:00 a.m. with best wishes for safe travels. She’s scheduled to leave New York for Washington, D.C. (She’s not bi-coastal. She’s one-coastal with three east coast addresses.)
At 8:00 a.m., she responds.
Between 8:00 a.m. and 8:10 a.m., we exchange a message or two, and she asks me if I’m sure I don’t want to go along. Hmmmm…a road trip? In a moment of spontaneity, I decide to go. (P.S. All of this texting is taking place while I’m still snuggled under the covers.)
The time is now: 8:11 a.m.
I leap out of bed, sprint to the kitchen (which doesn’t take much because the kitchen is literally around the corner), put the kettle on the stove, swing open the refrigerator door, grab two eggs, a pot from the cupboard, and fill it with water. I then fire up the burners. I plug in my mobile phone. (I can’t be left without a means of communicating on the open road. I need to snap photos, call, text, and tweet. I embrace technology.) I then grab the camera and decide to charge the battery for that too.
I rush back to the bedroom, make the bed (which is no easy feat), and in 5 minutes decide what I’m going to wear (also, no easy feat). I then scurry back to the kitchen, grab my travel mug and my cold beverage travel cup. The door for the refrigerator is swung open yet again. I grab a large container of bottled water, a package of tortilla wraps, a tomato, the bag of shredded cheese, and the door is slammed shut. The freezer door is next. “Whoop!” (That door didn’t have a chance.) I grab a few ice cubes. “Boom!” (I told you, that door didn’t have chance.) I toss the ice cubes into my cold beverage cup. By now the kettle is whistling, and the pot with both eggs is bubbling. Perfect. Off goes the kettle — water in the travel mug, in goes a tea bag, a spoon of brown sugar. Off goes the pot with the both eggs. A quick turn of the wrist and the pot is emptied. After a quick removal of the tea bag (yes, everything is quick), a stir of the tea in the travel mug, a rip of paper towels off the roll, it was rapid-fire slicing of the tomato. (The Iron Chefs had nothing on me.) Then came an even faster rapid-fire (if there is such a speed) shelling of the eggs. A grab of the box with aluminum foil — a quick rip. On goes the tortilla wrap, a generous helping of shredded cheese, my tomato slices and both eggs roughly chopped. Salt, pepper, and two quick folds. Wrap, wrap, wrap, wrap. I grab the bottled water, fill my travel cup with water, and on goes the cover. I quickly return whatever needs to be returned to the refrigerator. Everything else — in the garbage or the sink.
I look at the time: It’s 8:17 a.m.
Oh, our departure time? 8:30 a.m.
I close the travel mug with my tea, grab the foil-wrapped egg “sandwich” and my cold beverage cup. Into a bag they go, and I hustle to the front door to leave it there. The bag breaks. Great. I frantically search and find a replacement.
I rush back to the kitchen and look a the clock: 8:21 a.m.
I’m not done. There’s more.
I’m in and out of the shower by 8:30 a.m. I get dressed, text a request for more time, which is approved. (She’s a nice cousin, and I’m sure our travel companions — my aunt and uncle — “cut me a little slack” considering I had only 20 minutes to pull myself together.)
I think I jumped into my clothes — 2 minutes. (So serious.) I added an extra 2 minutes to unplug my mobile, unplug the charger for the camera, get a hat on my head and my body into a jacket. I grab the bag I’d left at the door with my breakfast and beverages.
Lights off. Door yanked open, closed, locked and down the stairs. 8:35 a.m.
250-miles later, I’m relaxing in my cousin’s apartment in Washington, D.C.
It’s always nice to be in the nation’s capital for a few hours. After a delicious dinner at Circa at Foggy Bottom, and a walk to the People’s House — the White House, we said our goodbye’s and she was left behind, while we took the 250-mile journey (give or take a few miles) back to New York.
Here are a few photographs. Hover over them for more info, and enjoy!