The Glum Kitty

There's something wrong with me. I'm going on a four day trip to Thailand, and it's already taken me more than two hours to pack. If inertia was an object, it would be one of those huge 65 litre backpacks strapped to my body. I can't decide which bikinis to take with me and make the mistake of trying on a few. The image in the mirror frowns back at me. I really hate my legs. And my torso, and everything else.
This really isn't good.
I'm flying off to Ko Samui, the beautiful botique beach island for a wedding - so I am I as enthusiastic as somebody anticipating a trip to the dentist?

Perhaps my uncle coming into my bedroom in the middle of the night to fiddle with the air conditioner, (consequently waking me up,) didn't help. "I don't want you to catch a cold and not be able to fly to Thailand," is what he said and subsequently marked the start of a very restless and sleepless night.

I'm suppose to be excited to be attending one of my closest friend's wedding. Don't get me wrong, I really do want to go, but I feel like I'm going because it's important to her and for no other reason at all. I muster enough energy to write "Congratulations" in her card, and run out of juice to write anything else inspirational.

The feeling lingers as I drag myself sighing to the airport. I get randomly picked by a man doing a survey for Changi airport. "How many times have you visited an airport in the past twelve months?" he asks. Just like Samantha from Sex and the City had to pause when asked how many sexual partners she's had, I too, take a very long pause.
"Er, it's definitely more than twenty times," is the best that I can offer.
The surveyor's eyes widen. "Wow, more than twenty times?" I know he's gagging to ask me what I do for a living as I don't particularly look like a jetsetting business woman, but his professionalism prevents him from prying further.

I board a mostly empty plane amongst the couples and families grinning with excitement and anticipation, and subsequently sigh my way through Samui immigration. (Hmm, judging from the ground, it has been raining heavily.)

I just feel tired - and this is coming from an unemployed bum who hasn't worked since May. (How do people muster enough energy to go to work?) Then I reach my hotel, and take one look at my room - and somewhere in the visual field of the king size bed and fluffy pillows, and the jacuzzi outside on my balcony, I feel my spirits lift.

"Maybe it's time to order room service," I think as I start running the water in the jacuzzi. I hear the voice of my dermatologist screaming in my head, "No showering for more than three minutes in tepid water!!!"

He's going to have a field day when I go back to see him.....

I have to roll over twice on the king size bed in order to reach for my alarm the next morning.