Saturday, 16 March 2013

THE BERMUDA TRIANGLE: ME, MYSELF & MY WILLPOWER

Beautiful Bermuda. Like I could have resisted. 
(If you look closely there in the background, you can see the deck that I won't be getting ... )


I promised myself I wasn’t going to do this. “You need to save some money, woman,” I told myself. “Honestly. Look at your neighbours. They all have a deck. You need to build a deck. You need to save some money so you can build a deck.”

This year FOR SURE, I vowed, I would save up enough money to build a deck. I mean how hard could it be? I make a decent buck, I live frugally, I take back my liquor store empties (this is becoming such an excellent source of cash I am considering ramping up my drinking) … my only extravagances are the two Caribbean vacations I take every year. Although I suppose I could live on just one (eeeeeeep!). Sorry. Little bit of a panic attack there. I’m fine. 
Anyway, I promised myself this would be the year I would tighten the belt and take just one or possibly even ZERO island getaways (eeeeeeep!). 

But you’d be surprised how addictive those last-minute travel websites are. They’re like crack. You hit them once and you’re hooked. You belong to them now. They've got you by the short and curlies (unless you don't have short and curlies because you get regular Brazilians, because it's good to be prepared). One minute you’re bored and the next minute you’re clicking frantically through the screens at lastminuteclub.com. You click faster and faster, you start sweating, you’re at the last screen, the booking screen, OMG really? It’s that cheap? OMIGOD! I just hit the booking button! I'M GOING TO BERMUDA!

That’s actually how it happened. I sort of accidentally hit the booking button and then I phoned to confirm that they had received the accidental booking and then I emailed them the one bit of extra information they required and then poof. I was booked.
And aside from the fact that I hate myself, I am actually pretty stoked. Bermuda. Woohoo! Always wanted to go there. And now I am.
And when I come home I still won’t have a deck.
Goddamit.

Editor's note: Spoiler alert: She went to Bermuda, all right. And it didn't end well . . .