Oh, wait, I was supposed to put that in the Anything But Pink garden journal. Well, you read it here first.

After thinking about the amount of money I was considering spending at Sandals I decided it couldn't possibly be more to stay at one of the nicest resort on the island. So I contacted the St. James Club, a place I always assumed I couldn't afford, and their travel agent rate was literally half that of Sandals. I don't know why I make daft assumptions all the time. Afraid, I guess, convinced that I can't afford something or someone's not going my way, just because I want it to be affordable or going the right direction. I must get over this diffidence. It seems like a singularly useless neurosis.

At any rate, I cancelled the one and booked the other pronto. I promise this is the last time I babble about my October vacation. But I get so excited, see. I love travel more than anything in the world (except John. And plants, apparently. But travel is definitely number two). It's so much fun to think about going someplace I've never been. Okay, not Bulgaria. Or Moldova. I could never get excited about going to a former Eastern Bloc country. But there are so many places I want to go to. I'm in a perpetual tiz over the cool places my clients are going.

Today a woman came in and handed over a check for five figures to pay off her vacation. Can you imagine? I mean, can you? I could buy a very decent little car for what she's paying for two weeks in Hawaii. It just floors me some days. And yet it's all perspective. Here I am prepared to fork over the better part of one paycheck for my four nights in Antigua later this year. Why am I surprised that this woman was willing to pay a lot for her vacation?

I had a typical front desk experience this morning. A smelly, slightly crazed woman came in the door after hesitating for a moment and asked in gestures for something to write on. I knew in my heart she wasn't going to be writing down, "How much is a lovely vacation to Hawaii? I can pay up to five figures." Of course not. She wrote very hurriedly and thrust the pad of paper back at me. It said she needed $1.10 to go somewhere to get something and that the churchs would not help her. I looked at her and shook my head. I didn't have it, I'd just spent my last dollar on coffee and would have to go to the bank in order to get lunch money.

She screamed. Loudly. Painfully. We all jumped in our seats. Then she walked out the door making very angry gestures at us and hooting like a howler monkey all the way down the street.

Well, it's more interesting than any other desk job I've ever had.

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