I overslept again. I’m on my way to New York in 2 hours.

I had all intentions of waking up this morning at 5:45am and cleaning my house. My dog sitter is coming later this afternoon and I wanted everything to be pretty and nice for her. Not to mention I haven’t packed yet. I like to pack in the morning before I leave. But instead of 5:45am I woke up at 7:30am. Which means I will have to make some compromises. Like I will not be able to run out and get coffee. And I won’t be able to clean the house the way I wanted to. And my packing will likely suffer as I’m up, but writing this blog rather than looking through make-up and clothes and actually putting them into a suitcase. But I need a little chill time before I can get that “gung ho” feeling and roll into “super star” mode - my fast paced jaunt through the house putting everything into order and packing it away.

I’d like to mention here that on the news a girl from MIT walked into Logan Airport in Boston with a fake bomb strapped to her chest. Why a fake bomb? If you’re going to freak everyone out and end up being charged as a terrorist (which will undoubtedly happen), why live through the consequences? So you can spend the rest of your life in jail? Why not just pack a real bomb and die?

Little know fact… I spent 22 hours in an awful holding cell called The Roundhouse in Philadelphia. I don’t recommend it to anyone. The charges sucked. Wrong place wrong time. Little white girl in a bad neighborhood in a nice car at 2am = must be copping drugs, therefore DUI without breathalyser test. Little did the cops know my family lived in that awful neighborhood = Sober. Yeah, it was awful to spend 22 sober hours in a pepto bismol pink holding cell, temperature 52 degrees, cell-mates prostitutes, people who’d killed their husbands, girls who’d blown over .1 and gotten into accidents so bad they had broken limbs. And I was so sober that I had to watch all of it with a clear mind, process all of it, take it all in because I was the only rational sober one.

Little know fact number two… As the police saw it, I was driving recklessly as I had had a blow-out (this is true) and not stopped to get help. But would you have stopped in a neighborhood known to have crack addicts and prostitutes scoring a block away? I wanted to get to a safe location before I stopped for help. Which was about four blocks from where I got pulled over.

Little know fact number three… Had I pulled over at the nearest place for help I would’ve been witness to a murder that night. Yes, the neighborhood was that bad, and there just happened to be a murder outside the WaWa I would’ve stopped at that night.

Anyway, all of it comes down to the fact that I had a blow-out, was in a bad neighborhood, tried to get somewhere safe, was a little white girl in a nice car who looked like she must’ve been trying to cop her last score of the night so the police pulled me over, took me in on suspicion of being under the influence of illegal street drugs and though I hadn’t been doing any, and they charged me with a DUI and stuck me in a holding cell for 22 hours. That’s a mouthful. I better go pack.

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