Idjit or Genius, Who Knows?

What is wrong with me?

It is positively, actually, truly, official now: I am an idiot. Somehow I got it into my head that the closing on the new house is March 1. I have made so many interlocking, intricately coordinated plans on this assumption, I can't even count that high. Problem? It's closing on February 28. That's right, 24 hours earlier.

The closing cannot be moved to March 1, all the documents have been drawn up. The movers cannot start a day earlier, they're all booked up. Neither Bob nor I can be in Ann Arbor for the signing, because we will be in the car driving the cat to the new house. We cannot fly because the cat could have a heart attack and die, whether or not he is sedated. We cannot fly one of us in for the signing, and the other one drive the cat; Bob won't let me drive that far alone on icy roads, and the cat won't survive the trip without me. Solution, at this late date? We will not be driving in easy stages. We will not stop for the night here and there so the cat can eat and pee. (In a moving car? Not bloody likely!) We will be driving hell bent for election, straight through, starting the night of the 25th. After watching the van load all day, of course.

And how far are we driving? That is a question of some debate. I say it's pretty close to 2,000 miles, Bob says only 1,500, tops. Even if he's right, 1,500 anythings do not constitute an "only". We have done marathon drives before, and I have developed a routine to deal with the stresses. Bob will not let me (or anyone else) drive, it's some kind of macho issue. Thus, I cannot stop the damn car. Over a period of many years, I have developed the following method for dealing with the lunatic.

Me: I'm hungry, and I have to potty.

Bob: (utter silence)

Me: I'm really hungry, and I had a diet Coke with caffiene. I have to go NOW.

Bob: You just ate half an hour ago.

Me: Even if you were right, which you're not, I'd still have to go to the bathroom. And, we ate 7 hours ago. The Big Mac and fries have processed, okay? I sucked all the nutrients out, and now I have to eliminate the crap. Pull the goddamn car over at that rest stop you're about to fly past!

Bob: You have a thimble for a bladder.

Me: Even so, so what? Now pull the goddamn car over, or I will pee on this seat, AND THEN MAKE YOU CHANGE SEATS WITH ME!!!!!

Bob: I never said I wasn't pulling over. You don't have to yell.

I am sooooo not looking forward to this drive.