12.26.2002

 
Ever have one of those days in which you just seem to do everything wrong? I did last Saturday, and I think I've just no recovered enough from my screw-ups to talk about it. Lucky you.

So Friday afternoon after we finished our finals, I absconded with my girlfriend up to Chicago to spend what was supposed to be our last night together before I headed west for a few weeks for the holidays. We had a great night with only a fwe hiccups and an hour spent with both of us cranky because we were each trying to make the other person happy and by doing so we somehow managed to make the other person a little more upset and the situation. Just be happy with those vague details. Anyway, Saturday started out okay enough. We spent about four hours wandering up and down Michigan Ave. shopping and looking at stuff that we really cannot afford but maybe one day will. At about 3:30 we started working our way back to my car so I could take her to the train station so she could catch a train (for which I had gotten her a ticket earlier that week) that I thought left at 4:30. Problem was that the train actually left at 4. My mistake. Then next train later that night was full. So I started insisting that I would drive her home (it's a 2.5 hour ride, not that big of a deal), stay there overnight and then get up at the ass crack of dawn to drive back up to Chicago to catch my morning flight.

This did not sit very well with my girlfriend, so then we tried to figure out ways that we could just stay in Chicago that night and then she would catch a train the next morning. So I call up one of my friends (who I had been intending to call all that day anyway to see if they had dinner plans, but was going to wait until the G/F left) to see if we could majorly impose on them for the evening and stay there. Well, apparently my friend was already rather incensed that I had not called her previously to let her know that I was coming up to the city, but she had known through the rumor mill that I was coming. So, the fact that I had not called her meant to her that I did not want to see her while I was there, or that the fact that I was going to wait until the day of to call meant that I thought they had nothing better to do than to wait around for me to call. So she was already in a bad mood with regards to me when I called, and the asking to stay the night at her place that night did not make things what I would call "better." Not one of the more pleasant conversations I have had in the last few months. (Quick sidebar: I understand her points and her being upset at my not calling. It seems that I tend to interpret my own behavior with respect to other people differently than I do, and invariably I end up pissing people off when I don't mean to do so. I was inundated with finals work and making last minute travel plans and gift plans for my girlfriend, and things just sort of got lost in there. Not the best excuse ever, and now I'm going to have to work to mend some fences. Sigh...). So then we thought about getting a skeevy motel room for the night, but we wisely decided to find out when the morning trains back to the cornfield left the next morning.

4pm was not exactly conducive to our needs. So back to the freeway we went to drive back. This apparently was the least appealing option according to her mother, and so now I feel like a giant tool and I'm worried her mom does not like me anymore. Hmph.

Anyway, then my g/f and I had a little discussion about my plans for the next day, with me being adamant that I was not going to let her drive me up to Chicago to catch my plane in the morning and her being equally adamant that she was doing to do so in part because it made more sense and in part because I never let her do anything nice for me. I think both of us had pretty good arguments, and so we eventually settled on a compromise of her taking me to a train station 45 minutes away that would get me up into the city later than the local train and would not cause me to spend quite as much time lingering around the airport. I still had a pleasant 3.5 hours spent sitting at the airport watching football and drinking beer, but it was better than 5 hours.

Sometimes, regardless of how much I try and plan things, I inevitably mess them up. Such is life, I guess.