After a tiring, boring, and somewhat windy trip across Iowa, we arrived in the bustling town of Waterloo. It was about 9:25 by the time we actually made it to the hotel and not a minute too soon. I don’t know whether it was the drive, my inability to sleep the night before or the anxiety of the fair, but I was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the road. Not to mention my glasses?
Did I mention my glasses before?
I forgot to get them adjusted. They are riding down my nose. Which means that the focal spot of the lens is sitting about a half inch below where it needs to be. Forces me to tilt my head and make an awful squinting face that Jenni hates. That or I need to keep pushing them up like a giant nerd. Ah, well.
Anyway. My eyes are tired, we have been driving across the most barren land east of Oklahoma, it is late and the Iowa roads are marked as if they were designated by a squirrel on Jolt Cola or some Four Loco when we arrive in Waterloo. We decide to check out the Sullivan Brothers Convention Center under the pretense that we want to see where it is so we know how to get there in the morning, but in reality we got off of the highway a stop too early and were feeling a bit lost.
Waterloo was dark. And empty. And the roads were snowy. And across from the convention center was a strip club. And the squirrel was at it marking the streets again. ANYWHO.
We made it to the hotel, checked in, lugged all of our stuff to the room and began the unpacking frenzy to beat all unpacking frenzy. Shoes in the closet, coats hung up, hanging clothes hung up on the bathroom door. Ironing board out. Iron on. Computers unpacked and set-up. Phones charging – you get the picture.
Then we crashed. But not really. Neither one of us could sleep. I was so anxious and afraid that I was going to miss the alarm and we would blow the fair altogether. Yeah, no danger of that happening. At one point in the evening Jenni leaned over to me and said “What time is it?” I replied, “Do you really want to know?” to which she said, “Yes”. I looked at the clock and said “2:15”. A frustrated groan and the slamming down of the covers (if one can actually slam down covers).
Tomorrow is the fair.