Happy Mother’s Day Weekend, dammit!

So, I can’t tell you the joy with which I approached this weekend. Totally stressed out at work and all I wanted was some SLEEEEEEP! Friday comes, and I prepare for bed with the same ritual that I prepared for my honeymoon night– except without the (way older) husband who now lives, thank God, lives in some far-off suburb of San Diego. (Ok, he got the better end of that deal, but now, at 47 he’s the proud father of new born twins– jeez Louise , really? Twins? Who’s laughing now on Friday night, huh, HUH???) I’m clicking away on the remote and drift into a deep, dreamless sleep, until 7 fucking thirty and I am awakened by a God Damn jack hammer. Are THEY KIDDING ME????? A JACK HAMMER? I look outside and there they arrreeee. Right outside my window on Lexington Avenue. They are NOT KIDDING.

Oh hell, I am not going to go on and on about the friggin’ jack hammers. I fought all weekend with my extended family, with a little feuding from Bella thrown in, and this is goddamn MOTHER’S DAY WEEKEND. And then, THEN, I’m staying in a hotel in New Jersey on Saturday night because, after going down south to visit my mother, I think this will be a fantabulous get away while Bella stays with my mother and I am alone for the first time alone in years (OK since last summer, but it FEEL LIKE YEARS). And I sink into the glorious down bed and drift off into a mid-winter’s slumber (oh leave me alone I know it’s spring for Godssake’s but it feels like winter today) and I awake, not 20 minutes later to bang…..bang…….bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG, and of course it’s just my luck to get the room 5 miles away from the lobby that is housing the honeymooners that just got married and LIKE why the FUCK can’t anyone design a hotel room so that the headboards are never back to back, like why the hell aren’t the beds on opposite walls, is this a FUNG SHUI thing or SOMETHING?

Whew. Sorry. I feel better now. It must be the Absolut kicking in. Any HOO, so, doesn’t THIS place look peaceful?

Well it IS, UNTIL the friggin’ maid service BANGS on the door next to me at 9AM on Mother’s Day morning howling: “Maid Service, helloooo???? Maid service”. And I’m like, there are 700 other friggin’ rooms in this hotel and is there a REASON that, on 9AM on Mother’s Day Weekend, you have to bang the hello out of the room right next to me and the HONEYMOONERS? I mean IS THERE???

And then, not 20 minutes later, the WALKIE TALKIE proceeds to yowl again about the fact that they NEED SHEETS in 3526. Do ya think I deserve a refund? Mr. Marriott, I came here to get some sleep. Somebody, take me back to the big dirty apple for some peace and quiet. PLEASE.

Happy Mother’s Day everyone. For those of you who are lucky enough to be celebrating a mother in your life.