what, this is vacation?

Thursday, discovered that my credit card was missing. Only have the one. Likely left it in the cash machine. Momentary panic, but you do get some benefits with the gold card, and they promised to send me an emergency cash card to the address of my choice, so I get that on its way to San Diego. 

Then at UCLA I need to order an official copy of my doctorate degree. You know, the pretty kind that most people hang on the wall. Next time I will indeed hang it on the wall, so I know where it is.

The campus is in pre-term mode, nearly deserted except for orientation groups being taken around. Murphy Hall is open but only partially functional. Just my luck, for today only the office I need is closed. Great. I can pop by any time and get this done. Yes, I could do this on line, but they only take checks (in dollars, natch) or student accounts for payment. WTF??? No credit cards? That's why I am here in person, and they're closed.

Lunch is nice, and then it's time to get me downtown for my train. M-hmm. Even if I had my ticket, which I don't because I don't have a @#% credit card, the 4pm leaves without me. Love that LA traffic. I do have a phone to call Wendy with, so that's good.

Arriving at Old Town Station, I stand up. And discover that I really, really hate being 50. My period has become completely unreliable, and I have just ruined the only pair of shorts I brought with me. Remember that mortification at 15? Have another round. Then wrap your knee-length wrap around you & go have margaritas anyway.

I have a dress to wear on Friday, and thus starts the quest for a new pair of shorts. How difficult can this be? It's San Diego. People wear shorts all year here.

Wear them, yes. But you cannot buy them in September unless you want the super-short kind for people who are not 50. So I will be sporting these nifty black spandex yoga shorts for the next couple days.

Saturday they are supposed to deliver my card to Dan's place, and either he or I can sign for it. Nobody else, those are the instructions. Before 10, they promise. At noon, no card so I spend yet another half hour on the phone to Visa getting it straightened out. Visa confirms that somebody named Knight signed for it hours ago. Uh, who? The visa lady puts me on hold while she contacts UPS so Dan & I go around to the neighbors. Nobody named Knight anywhere. Turns out UPS had the wrong address, and they don't care who signs for the package. Great. So I will get a new new card on Monday. Promise!

Wendy and Don are wonderful. Dan and Liz and company are wonderful. The sun is wonderful. The ocean is wonderful. But my life is not wonderful. I rant and cry on shoulders and have some more wine and wish I could sleep. I need a whole vacation of just sleep.