ninme

Err, yes, I’m in Maui. See?

<br/> the buttcrack of dawn was right behind me. ah, jetlag.

Sorry, why am I in Maui, you ask? Well, I’m doing a renovation of my grandparents’ old place to turn it into a rental property. Why am I using the first person singular, you ask? Because I’m the one doing it. Don’t tell you I’m here by myself, you say? Well, yes, I am here by myself. Although only for the first week. Then Peter’s coming for his holiday. So I have to turn this:

<br/> take careful note the concrete floor

Into something resembling a holiday home (“holidays here, holidays here, get yer Maui holidays here!” before he arrives. Although the carpets aren’t going in till the week after he gets here. And the bedroom furniture neither. But hey, it’ll get done!

Random thoughts: If I had an iPhone or equivalent, and you were allowed to use the internet on planes, I’d be a Twittering fiend. That lady flying to her Maui vacation with an Obama teeshirt on? I’d Twitter it. The Hawaiian guy and the Seattle-based tourists talking basketball in front of me for six hours straight? I’d Twitter it. The fact that August Rush is the movie I’m not watching as my in-flight entertainment? I’d Twitter it. The fact that the guy at the gate totally gave me a free window seat (from the selection of window seats they reserve to sell for $30 extra a pop the day of departure? I’d Twitter it. The fact that the idiot lady with the three blonde teenaged daughters (God I hate teenagers) reacted, when I politely pointed to the blonde next to the window and said “Um, I think that’s my seat”, then answered her “Do you mind sitting somewhere else?” with a “I’d really like the window seat” that the lady told her blondes, “You guys can’t sit together, she wants the window seat,” as if trans-Pacific flights costing hundreds of dollars don’t, after all, have assigned seating or anything? I’d totally Twitter it. Standing there in the aisle, I’d Twitter it. Then I’d show her my Twitter page. Then I’d sit down in my window seat, that I got fair and square by acting small, alone, and female.

I have managed to get into a fight with just about everyone who works here. Except housekeeping. Housekeeping people are always just lovely.

$12.95 is way too much to be spending for 24 hours of internet. But the cable modem that’s supposed to be in here? Isn’t here. The HOA lady who said she’d call the cable company and leave a message on my phone for when they’d bring another one by, but was then spotted flirting with some delivery guy in the hallway a few minutes later? Never called.

At any rate, I’m online, finally, and should be online normally soon, so I’ll be blogging as usual, if on a different time zone and rather sporadically. At least when I’ve set up the little desk I ordered from West Elm that got here a day early. Bless them. And bless UPS/Fedex. And a pox on all mail-order furniture stores that only proved “in-home delivery” which doesn’t actually deliver into the home and takes weeks and weeks.

And how long will I be here? Three weeks. Unless everything goes pear-shaped. Right now it’s just sort of apple-shaped. But you know what’s shaped like an apple? Some types of pear. So.