I know I haven’t been updating. I know…bad Cindigo.

The RV is still hanging around with no window. But, a bright spot is that the insurance company told us that they could write us a check directly and Andy could fix it himself since there was no lien on the title.

Yesterday was our two year anniversary. We went to see Le Reve at Wynn. It was better than Cirque Du Soleli. We’ve been having drinks, playing video poker and betting baseball like a religion. Right now, I’m typing this from the public computer at the fabulous Diamond Room at Harrahs Las Vegas. After we bet the seven pm game, we’re going back to the RV to grab some stuff and head off to Laughlin to swim with the fishes. That’s swim with the fishes…not sleep. We’ll be back Friday.

I’m sitting in a purple, puffy chair in the Starbuck’s at Harrah’s. Vlad, our friend is still in Vegas and has a few more days of comp rooms. We’re staying with him through Sunday.

We are officially homeless. Everything big sold on Craigslist last night. The last of the stuff was packed into the jeep and Vlad’s Subaru and carted off to the RV that is sitting windowless in our friends Troy and Heather’s backyard.

The absence of a window is throwing a wrench in the plans, since we can’t really travel without one. It’s been two weeks since we dropped the RV off at the second shop. They still haven’t finished the estimate. We don’t have confidence in these people either, but what do we do, bring it to a third shop?

Andy and Vlad are still sleeping. It’s 11:00. I considered jumping on the bed to wake Andy up, but he’s a much happier guy with as much sleep as possible. I probably would be better off with more sleep too, but I always feel like I might miss something.

That is all to report from the purple, puffy chair.

All of the inspections are done, the papers are signed and the countdown is counting. We will be out of the house on Thursday night but have until Friday morning if we need it. We’re still not sure where we’re going. The RV still has no window and a broken dashboard so we can’t travel in it until the window is fixed at least.

Do we drive the Jeep to San Diego and stay with Novabella? Do we go to Laughlin and hang out on the fake beach with the clean river and swim with the fishes. (Really, the river is clear and huge fish swim around your feet). Do we want to just get a room at the Budget Suites weekly hotel behind the Stardust Hotel and try to relive the glory of our first days in Vegas? We just don’t know.

I need some help.

We’re getting down to the final days of house ownership. The final walk through is Friday, and I sign all the important papers on Monday. There’s a few things left that I don’t know what to do with. The most infurating being my classic, black, ripped up leather jacket from 1989. Come on, you know the one.

I know you’re saying, “What! Are you crazy! Keep that thing!”. But, I don’t really want to. It’s heavy, wasn’t great quality even when it was new, and I will never, ever wear it again. But, still….what do I do with it? I can’t bear to give it to Good Will, and the trash is beyond the realm of possibility and the thought of moving it in again just doesn’t sit right.

It just keeps moving from, table to box to floor to another pile, etc. Since everything is almost packed, sold, given away or trashed, it’s becoming clear that something must be done….and soon.

I’m sitting in the lobby of the Comfort Inn. It’s seven in the morning. My mom is sitting across the table from me doing her morning crossword puzzle and drinking a cup of coffee.

I’m sick. Much better than two days ago, but still nauseous and not really able to eat yet. The plane ride here was the most challenging that I’ve ever experienced. Ten minutes into the flight I felt that I had to throw up. I ran to the bathroom and did, felt better and thought I would be fine. It ended up not being the case. I was in the bathroom every ten to fifteen minutes for the entire three hour flight being sick. To give you a gauge on my sick-o-meter…I hate airplane bathrooms. Actually any sort of public bathroom with plastic type fixtures. If you give me a choice between one of these facilities and a bush, I will pick the bush almost every time. I will hold it. I will do whatever has to be done to avoid the unpleasantness of using one of these facilities.

Another point of reference for the sick-o-meter…At first I was trying to not touch anything, or step in anything for that matter. By the end of the flight, I was so sick, I was kneeling on the floor with my head practically in the toilet bowl. Now, in the clarity of health, I shudder.

When sitting in my assigned seat, I was trying not to draw attention to myself but the flight attendant’s jump seats were facing me directly. They probably deduced that something was up with my frequent bathroom usage and the by the tears streaming out from under my sunglasses. Only tears a few times though, no sobbing. They got me water and ginger ale and the more concerned of the two got me a cold washcloth to put on my head.

By the end of the flight, I had nothing left in my stomach but still felt like puking. The “fasten seat belt” sign was lit and we were descending. I couldn’t leave my seat. I think that this may have been one of the points where tears were involved. I believe one of the other points that tears were involved were the twenty minutes of air turbulence.

When we were on the ground and I heard that familiar ding while the lighted seat belt went out I leaped over my overweight, manly, midwestern seat mate and jumped into the lavatory five feet away.

To my knowledge I have never been possessed by demons. If I had to imagine what it would feel like, it would have to be this. I had nothing left in my stomach, but still have the violent need to empty the contents of my stomach. I’m embarrassingly making awful retching noises. I can’t help it. I’m mortified but not in control of my own body. I feel like someone is trying to kill me from the inside. Finally and horrifyingly, I cough up something that I’m not entirely unsure is my spleen or part of my liver. At this point I don’t even care if it’s a vital organ because for the moment I feel better. Even though I am quite embarrassed because all the passengers are deplaning and I’m sure can hear very clearly what’s happening in the bathroom.

As I sat in the bathroom trapped by all the people walking by with their rolling carts and laptop bags, I comforted myself by thinking that at least I would never have to see them again. I also thought that this would probably make a pretty good story for some people when they were riding home from the airport…..”Oh man, there was this girl on the flight, she was seriously puking the whole time”.

When I opened the door the flight attendant was standing there with a serious look of concern on her face. She asked if I was okay. I said “yes”, even though I was not okay. I told her I had to catch a connecting flight to Memphis. We were in Atlanta. She asked if I wanted a wheel chair. I said “no, I’m fine”. I was not fine. She looked at me again, and said, “are you sure, it’s really not a problem”. I said, “okay”, and maybe cried a little more, but I’m hoping that was hidden under my big rock star sunglasses.

It turned out, the wheelchair was a fantastic call on the flight attendant’s part. I don’t think I could have made it without it. They dropped me off at the gate and I immediately stumbled to the bathroom to throw up once more. At this point I was so drained, all I could do was get to the gate make a little pillow of my laptop case curl up in the corner of the floor. I had a three hour lay over. I slept there for two and a half hours.

I woke up, felt a little bit better. I only threw up once on the one hour flight to Memphis.

Now, as I finish this, my step brother’s wedding is finished. Family bonding was had by all. Breakfast is a nine a.m. and our flights to all our our different homes are in the afternoon. I’ll be in Atlanta for a few days visiting friends and then back home to my rock star husband and our Russian Oracle friend who is in from Colorado.