This SUCKS!

Just a quick report from Planet Effing Disney World, where I've been dragged kicking and screaming and biting for TEN [very bad word, gerund form] DAYS.

I have WORK to do. Work I'd LIKE to do.

I have all sorts of things to do AT HOME.

Instead, I'm stuck here in a place with a carbon footprint you can see from the [even worse word, also a gerund] moon. A place where it's ninety degrees outside and sixty inside because the air conditioning is always blasting because heaven forFEND all the rich people don't have SOMEwhere to wear their fur coats.

They haven't cleaned our room today, because we only went out for six hours. And before you give me grief about what a tough job professional cleaning is, I USED TO CLEAN HOUSE FOR A LIVING, all right? Yes, I used to clean house for total strangers for money. Wow, does that sound dirty (the other kind of dirty) when I say it like that.

I get to scream about not having a clean room to come back to, because my allergies and sinuses are killing me because of the abovementioned fur-coat-appropriate air conditioning.

I get to scream in general, because I'm spending ten days with my mother-in-law, who is paying for this whole trip and is very very nice and I KNOW I should be nicer to and about her, but her hobby is self-abnegation and if she doesn't stop saying "No, no -- after YOU" to everyone in the [worst word you can think of, ending in -ing] WORLD, I'm going to kill someone.

It's really hard to tell someone to STOP BEING SO BLEEPING NICE, already. Especially the kind of nice that DOESN'T HELP ANYONE. That doesn't even make SENSE.

Example: I came up to join her and my husband and son after a blissful couple of hours alone with my books (not all of them) in the hotel room. They (my family, not my books) were sitting on a bench that was exactly big enough for them. M-i-l shoves herself over so that SIX INCHES of bench are showing between her and my son and says, WITH A COMPLETELY STRAIGHT FACE, "Do you want to sit down?"

Not exactly a criminal offense.

But have I mentioned I want to go home?

Home, where I can clean my OWN stuff if I need to, and have ALL my books (instead of just a select few) with me, and I can buy chocolate and actually BRING IT HOME without it melting to the point that I can just fold it if it's taking up too much room in my bag?

They're back. Time to frog-march through Epcot.

(I KNOW that word is supposed to be all caps. I DON'T CARE.)