Oh, man, this just burns me up. I’m researching what all I need to purchase before flying out to D.C. in October—turns out my flight’s going to cost about what it did last year. The problem is the rental car. I only need it for two full days—days when Andy’s going to be at work and I want to get myself to the nearest Metro station.
Because I’m 23, it’s going to cost me nearly a hundred and fifty dollars to rent the blasted car. Yes, I understand the age demographic, but there should be SOME consideration for life factors instead of just age. I mean, come on, folks—if a bank is going to loan me nearly $100K for a mortgage (which, by the way, a bank did nearly a year ago) don’t you think you can rent a $20K car to me for 48-stinkin-hours without charging me an arm, a leg, and a good chunk of torso and boob?
In better news, I’ve got my flights picked out. I’m going to take a morning flight from Huntsville, connect in Atlanta, and show up on Andy’s doorstep in the early afternoon. Works for me. This is going to be a very independent vacation for me. I’m planning on hitting some art shops by myself and finding more nice things to decorate my house with. I’m going book shopping. I’m hitting museums that I missed last year. (I’ll undoubtedly talk more about that as my trip dates get closer)
Andy will be relieved to note that I’m also planning on resting and reading.
Speaking of reading—bless Gareth Watts, for he has brought me wondrous things from this faraway land known as England. He brought two copies of Iain M. Banks’ new Culture novel, Look To Windward. It’s not available in the States, and the Canadian bookstores I contacted didn’t expect to have copies for another couple of months, so Gareth was my last hope. He came through magnificently.
So, tonight, I plan to sprawl out on the guest bed (probably with darling silly Edmund’s help) and bury myself in this book.
Meanwhile, it’s 6:00, and I’m going home now.