Goddess of Lug, revisited.

I have just returned to my hotel room after assembling a booth at a security software tradeshow in San Jose. We hired a local union guy to assist us, and surprisingly (especially for those who know my frustrations and nasty experiences with unions) he was a fabulous worker, and extremely funny. Score! Helped make the 7 hours I spent standing on concrete more bearable. No one let me drive the forklift. Probably a clever move. Anyone know how to pluralize the computer mouse? Is it mouses, or mice? I understand the plural in rodent form is mice, but does that apply to the computer device as well? I've wondered this for a long time...

I "sherpa'd" a lot of exhibit material down to the expo. So much, in fact, that my suitcase weighed 78 lbs. At that weight I am not even allowed to pay overage. Embarrassing! I was holding up a huge line of people, while I transferred shrinkwrapped packets of datasheets into my carry-on, then weighing the suitcase again, adjusting again, etc. THEN, the ticket agent weighed my carry-on, and determined that at 37 lbs I had to check that too! Gawd. I had to open up the 2 suitcases and reshuffle, and put essential toiletries, like deodorant and toothpaste into my laptop bag, in case my luggage didn't make it. After my recent post, I know it's easy to assume I overpacked, but I actually didn't (just this once). I only brought 3 pairs of shoes!! So...after everyone behind me is giving me dirty looks and exchanging self-righteous and knowing glances indicating they know I am some high-maintenance tart that doesn't know how to pack, I pay the $31 fine for heavy baggage to the clerk and hope to be on my way. I confide to him that's it's embarrassing to hold up the line, and let him know that it's not really MY stuff that's the issue, I am just carrying tradeshow stuff that's heavy. The guy actually grins and in a loud voice says "That's OK ma'am, lot's of people bring too many shoes". Shit. Now everyone thinks it am the over-packing tartlet I've tried to indicate I am not, so I throw in the towel. I french-kiss my husband goodbye in front of everyone, and with as much dignity as I could fake, walked swiftly towards Customs lugging my junk.

Heard while hunting in Texas: That's no quail (or Quayle) you just shot, Dick.