And to think I've boasted about my flexibility when traveling.

Sunday I was supposed to fly home from CA on a plane departing at 6:45 am.   Alas, the plane had mechanical problems.  That's such a drag, but I give Delta credit for not holding us hostage on the tarmac while we waited to see what could be done.  Some people deplaned, some stayed on.  I hung out on the jetway with a group of passenger and we watched the mechanics come and go.  We talked about the Metrodome roof and other things.  It was not bad.  With such an early start, I figured I'd still be able to make my way home before bedtime.  Several hours later they decided it was a no-go.  Which meant a plane full of people needed rebooking.

That wouldn't have been so bad on a normal day, but apparently Delta was already dealing with a bunch of passengers from Saturday in the midwest who had to be rerouted thanks to lousy weather.  No one could get through to Delta's 800 number, Sacramento was understaffed for such a problem, blah blah.

When I finally got rebooked it was.....for a 10:55 flight to Atlanta.  That's pm.  16 hours after I planned to depart.  UUUUUUUUGH.

So that sucked.  And thanks to a late arrival in Detroit, I'd have to burn part of a vacation day to boot.  While this trip was for work, I'd stayed the weekend for my own purposes.  I was on my own time now. And if travel made me late, that's time I have to count off.

I did not sleep terribly well on the flight, and recall I'd been up at 4:50 am to catch the flight I was meant to be on earlier.  So when I landed in Detroit (2nd plane flight) I was a bit strung out.  So it was quite a blow when I went to pay for parking and learned that, thanks to lousy signage and congenital idiocy on my part, I had parked in the $20 per day structure.

I was stunned.  With Mark in school, our budget doesn't exactly have a lot of wiggle room these days, and the thought that $50 was going to get yanked out of the holiday present fund to go to parking?  Unbearable.  When the kindly gentleman in the ticket booth beheld my trembling lip (and greasy hair and bloodshot, glassy eyes), he suggested I speak to the management office.  To get there,  I had to back out of the pay lane.

At which point I backed into a pole and dented the %$&*out of my car.  I went from worrying about $50 to worrying about hundreds.  Whatever my deductible is, plus whatever it would probably jack up my insurance.  Because surely there is a surcharge for being too stupid to drive out of a parking lot without hitting non-moving cement structural supports.

This was too much for what was left of my composure.  I made a weepy call to my sainted husband.  A humiliating snuffling visit to the parking office to beg for a price break.  Holy cats, it was awful.

BUT--they are refunding half my parking.  My husband said it didn't matter.  I went home and went to bed and took the whole day off and life is better today.