#which is no much nicer and I'm waiting for it to arrive in the mail | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

grazhir · 11 months

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Trip Report (of sorts)

I've basically filled my quota for extra conversation for the year, and my quota of extra television.

Allergens are different up north (I knew that already, but was reminded). My sinuses were bitchy the whole time I was there, and now that I'm home again, they've gone bitchy again (which is basically that they're twice as bad in this state, so it's worse).

I had to feed chickens on this trip. My dear brother neglected to mention that part until after we arrived at the house and he got around to mentioning it and showing me what I'd need to do. Too bad I can't think up a decent prank against him.

[The last time I was around live chickens was as a child, when my paternal grandfather had some at his place up the road, and I remember that fuckin' bantam rooster who attacked me. I should have kicked it.]

Those chickens aren't old enough yet to lay eggs, so at least I didn't have to deal with that. (Next year, though? Eeeeee!)

One cat went wonky, and one dog. I am not a dog person. (Somewhere in those ten days I pointed out my mother's hypocrisy when she complained about being licked by a cat because who knows where those tongues have been, and I pointed out just what I've seen dogs eating, up to and including "crunchy snacks" from a cat's litter box.)

I also vaguely embarrassed myself at the post office when I went in to mail a package my brother shoved at us before he left for the airport. I've clearly been away from New England too long to not connect "no postal workers at the desk" and "there is a bell".

The guy who came in after me quite sensibly asked if I'd binged it.

And then the lady helping me said I needed to put a return address on the package, and all I could remember was the street address. I called my mother (who was waiting in the car—she has mobility issues) to get the rest of it. Geez. I was polite, though, and thanked the lady postal worker for being patient with me.

Flight there was fine.

Flight back? Haw. I woke up at 3am (because my flight was at six) to see a notification that there was a three hour delay—a solid guarantee that I would miss my connecting flight. I had (originally) a three hour layover. Yeah, not anymore. (And later I got a notification that first flight was bumped another hour.)

Spent three hours on hold with the airline, but finally rang through and the nice lady bumped me to another airline. I got home just fine, thankfully.

Doesn't mean I didn't spend those three hours freaking out and spending way too much time in the garage vaping more than usual.

I will say I hate the phone app for United, though. American Airlines has a much nicer app. I think Delta's is nicer, too.

#real life #trip report

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virellya · 4 years

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As promised, here’s chapter 2! Hope you enjoy x

Her eyes flicked to the station clock, but he wasn't late. Not yet. Given the glut of people on the platform, he'd most likely be delayed. Her stomach tightened slightly. What would he be like in person? Would he still be upset at her decision to join the WAACs? It had been almost six weeks since he wrote and agreed to meet her when she arrived in London. There had been sporadic letters since then, but none with the luxurious candidness that had been their previous correspondence. She wondered if he actually wanted to meet her at all – perhaps their curious friendship only worked blindly through the mail, and he knew it. The idea that her physical reality might be disappointing and abruptly end this odd association secretly worried her. So much so that she hadn't slept a wink the night before, wondering how she should talk and what to say over and over. She wasn't sure when his opinion had come to weigh so much in her mind, but the thought that she wouldn't measure up twisted her stomach a little tighter.

As time passed she watched the stream of people and waited. She was investing far too much worry into this one aspect of her new life, and not much in the rest. Her new accommodations in a women's-only boarding house, the obvious hostility of her commanding officer at Mildenhall, even the concern of getting lost in the tangle of London's rail and tube system were just blips on her radar. She was so eager for new experiences that the fear which tagged along became rolled into the excitement for her. Except the fear of meeting Rick, and that should have been the best part in all of this. She just wanted it to go well or it might sour everything else.

Minutes ticked by and eyes skimmed over her as she scanned the crowd. More than a few uniformed lads gave her a look, flicking roguish smiles before disappearing into the chaos of the station again. She sighed and lamented that all men were alike at a certain age; her uniform wasn't flattering in the least and yet it didn't stop them. She decided to view it in a more optimistic light, thinking that perhaps they were drawn to the idea of a woman doing her part for the war effort just like them, conveying a reckless bravery along with the typical interest. Yes, that was a nicer idea.

She caught a pair of eyes in the crowd. He was standing still watching her, and when their eyes locked he stared for a moment before ducking his gaze to his boots and hunching in on himself. She took in his details – thin, pale, not as tall as she expected, with thick, heavy spectacles that dwarfed his eyes and a plain sort of ordinariness about him that would only make him less remarkable as he aged. Something in her, previously wound tight, unspooled with a sudden gut drop; she was definitely disappointed. He glanced back up at her and offered a shy smile from under the brim of his cap, his cheeks rosy like an untested boy. She shook off her unexpected disenchantment, wondering when she'd built up an idea about his looks in her mind, and gave a cautious smile back. He swallowed visibly to see it and seemed unable to move from where he was across the platform.

Never mind, she chastised herself. He told you he wasn't anything to look at. Don't be the sort of dame who can't see past that…

"Michonne?"

She jumped at hearing her name called from beside her rather than across the platform. She turned and found herself under the slightly worried gaze of a British officer. He was tall and solid, all sharp edges in his trim uniform, and he was clutching a collection of flowers. The stubble on his face made him look a bit older and there was something world-weary in his expression as well, like so many soldiers she'd seen since arriving overseas; they'd witnessed things they shouldn't. His eyes were piercing blue and his gaze was wide and warm, entrancing her in a moment of speechlessness before she snapped out of it. There was no mistaking the recognition in them – he knew her.

Oh gosh…

"I'm… uh, I'm Rick," he said, offering a smile.

Click here to keep reading.

#richonne #rick grimes #michonne #twd #mine #the walking dead #walking dead #twd fanfic #walking dead fanfic #richonne au #richonne fanfic #daryl dixon #carl grimes #judith grimes

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