I managed to get into San Francisco. The flight was delayed by an hour because of bad weather in Boston, but I didn’t care because I’m already late getting home and I ran into my friend, Ken (thanks for getting that stupid Barbie song stuck in my head), who also happened to be on my flight (or I was on his flight), so I had plenty of entertainment.
He had a rental car—or better yet, a maroon grandpa boat—waiting for him, so I caught a ride, but only as far as Menlo Park. He couldn’t get me to the train or else he’d miss his meeting, so he ditched me with the attendants at the Rosewood Sand Hill Hotel & Spa. They were fabulous. They called a cab for me. They offered me water. They were worried about what time my train was. And they probably enjoyed wondering why Ken and I drove up but I needed to go to the train station while he was staying for a meeting. Always good to make people at 5 star hotels curious.
So a $20 cab ride later, I successfully bought a Caltrain ticket. Only waited a few minutes for a train. I even looked it up to make sure I didn’t accidentally get on an express train.
I walked a lovely mile home to drop off my bag. Pablo, the one with the unexplained fever, not to be mistaken with Mitsy, the one with the brain fungus, was under the bed and not coming out. However, he did blink slowly at me, indicating everything would be okay.
I put the top down on Myrtle and drive to the specialty vet. The highway was at a standstill, so I took back roads and hoped I’d find my way to Campbell. I did, but arrived 10 minutes after they closed. However, they took pity on me and let me in to pay my ginormous bill.
I then broke Perl out of doggy daycare jail after paying their ransom. Now we are all home and all is in order. Perl is licking her paws, Mitsy left the room because she wasn’t getting enough attention, and Pablo, King of the Castle, is hogging all my time.
And it may only be 8 pm, but i am off to sleep.