Guess who bought tickets to 'Wicked' this morning? Eleventh row, orchestra stalls, and those seats better be diamond-studded. Also, I better be sitting next to a movie star, preferably someone tall and English, like Colin Firth. That would do nicely.
Phillip worked late last night so instead of doing laundry and making dinner and figuring out what we need to pack, I parked myself in front of the computer and attempted to find a hotel in the West End. O Dear Readers it is nigh impossible to find a hotel in the West End. Well, let me amend that. If you happen to be Colin Firth, it's probably no problem. But if you are the sort of person who would rather spend her extraneous income on theater tickets, your choices are few and far between. And the lifts probably stopped working in 1977.
This is unfortunate, because I've sort of become accustomed to Rather Nice Accomodations. This is the fault of my husband, who tends to be a little whiny if the rooms are small and the views are unimpressive and there is no complimentary breakfast. Phillip would probably have fainted at the sight of half the places I stayed on my backpacking trip, most especially the turquoise-colored rat-infested hovel in Budapest. I like to think of myself as an experienced gritty traveler type, but the truth is, once you've stayed at the Fairmont Orchid, it is terribly hard to go back. London, however, will be, by FAR, the most expensive place we've visited together (take that, Waikiki) and I am not budging on my theater tickets. ELEVENTH ROW, PEOPLE!
I've picked out a couple places in Bloomsbury (see, I'm desperate to stay as close to the theaters as possible, so deep is my subconscious longing to morph into a brunette Kristin Chenoweth and win a Tony.) And while I would prefer to spend all of my free time in theaters, it's unlikely there's a show going on at nine in the morning, so I'm listing a few other possibilities. London is the one European city Phillip visited before meeting me, so there's potential to do Totally! New! Things! But I may have to leave him in the hotel so I can go look at Art without interruption. He's not so much for Art.
Anyway, that's a lot of jabbering for someone who will be in London a whole two days. Shut up, Maggie.
In other news, yesterday I had the When Do I Tell The Work People About The Baby conversation. My two bosses and five coworkers are already in the know, but I happen to work with a whole bunch of folks outside my company and I'm getting a little antsy. It's entirely possible I may be showing next time I see them. It wouldn't be such a big deal, but I am planning on never seeing these people again once I actually have this baby, they are going to have to get used to someone new, perish the thought, so there is that whole situation to consider. And I just don't want to deal. Questions, comments, all that. My boss, who is ten kinds of cool, even when he says "Access" when he really means "Excel", volunteered to do the telling for me. Isn't that nice? He said he should anyway, as the Boss In Charge Of Me. And he was all, "Maggie, I know you don't like to be in the public eye, but they probably will want to say congratulations or something." Which is funny, because while my boss is right on, he also doesn't know I have an extremely public website. Hee.
Of course, every time I write about him I make that fact potentially less and less true...
I have to go to the dentist this morning, did I mention that? I had two crowns put on in September and ever since then I haven't been able to chew on the right side of my mouth. Which is sort of not the point, you know? Did I really even need these crowns? I haven't been moved to do anything about it though, because I hate the dentist and I also have a whole other side with which to chew, but now I'm getting a toothache. And THAT is definitely not supposed to happen when you have a crown, right? Last night I woke up in the middle of the night because my TOOTH HURT. And once something starts messing with my precious precious sleep, wars shall be fought until the thing in question is vanquished. I don't have a lot of hope, though, because they spent close to an hour trying to get my bite right the first time. Stupid dentist. She was recommended by the guy who drugged me up and yanked all my wisdom teeth out, but now when I think of how he said, "She's the best dentist in Seattle," I think what he really meant was, "She's new and could totally use some more clients."
Anyway, it's time to go listen to the hygienists yap about their boyfriends. Gah. Happy Tuesday!