Leaving on a Jet Plane

Tomorrow morning, I’m leaving for a week to Cuba. Staying in a 5star, all inclusive resort. Dorian surprised me with the trip months ago and we’ve never traveled quite so far before.

He’s already packed. He’s calm as could be, but then, he’s gone before.

I’ve never been anywhere tropical, the only islands I’ve been on have been in bodies of cold water. I’ve also never been at an inclusive resort, or like, free drinks and food. The only other country I’ve been to was America.

I did not enjoy going through customs, I understand you need to look scary, but maybe I’m nervous because there’s a bunch of scary looking men standing around glaring at little ol’me. When you’re small enough for almost any man to pick you up and throw you, you get a little twitchy.

Here’s a kicker: there’s no internet.

When I pointed that out, Dorian laughed at me. I’d say he planned that, but internet is like that. You can pay a little bit for an hour of internet, but Dorian has forbidden me from doing so.

Remember, ladies, he and I have a standing arrangement, he’s not just ordering me around willy-nilly. So no one needs to make comment about abusive or rude men.

We’ve been debating taking my tablet. The debate is pretty much, will it be dead weight, or should we bring it to keep me from going a little crazy. I’ll have my phone, I can write on my phone, but what if I want to add to His Grace instead of Death Mask? What if I want to do world planning instead of writing Death Mask?

The thing with my writing is that if I don’t get to work with what I want to do, I get upset, whiny, and withdraw. I get done with the world at large and pissed at other people, downright rage filled towards the person who makes any kind of suggestion about leaving a writing thing at home.

Right, charging the tablet.

I had to buy a larger suitcase and a bunch of stuff because who the hell just needs three swimsuits?

I get it, I understand normal women do, but I’m not entirely certain what for. On the off chance your boyfriend buys you tickets to Cuba because you’re having  a bad eight months? Suppose it’s like me and dresses, except I like just wearing those around the house.

Dorian, of course, isn’t thinking about what a woman might need in Cuba. He wasn’t going to take bug spray or sunscreen. I swear, that man would be riddled with zika and cancer by the time he got back if it weren’t for me.

“What’s Zika?”

“… a mosquito borne illness that the heath advisories say we should watch out for in Cuba.”

“There aren’t mosquitoes in Cuba.”

“They’re surrounded by water.”

I’m off for a week and am pretty certain that I’m missing a ton of stuff.

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