Materialistic: describes a person who is markedly more concerned with material things (such as money and possessions) rather than spiritual, intellectual, or cultural values. – Wikipedia
Materialishtic: describes a person who is markedly concerned with spiritual, intellectual, or cultural values but sometimes, can become concerned with material things (such as money and possessions) when they seem like they are all that she has to make her prepared for her new journey. – Me
I awoke with a nasty looking hairdo but a fresh attitude about my move thus far. After all, I had landed safely in London! Customs took its expected time. No worries, though. It’s New Year’s Eve and everyone just wants to get home. After landing I decided that nothing was going to get me down, because I was here!!!
Turns out, one of my bags was not. It happened to be the bag with all of my clothes, toiletries, medicine, and shoes.... the perfectly packed bag. “It’s ok” I thought, “it must be due to the holidays. Everything will be fine.” That evening, I had a grand time having a beer with Jenn on the river and watching horrible (or should I just call it British) television.
Day 2 – still no word from Continental. I call the parentals to not only slot me in during their prayers but to keep checking the website. I decide it is ok to wear my tracksuit for 3 days in a row.
Day 3 – nothing. Go to church in tennis shoes for the first time. Donate half of what is in my wallet. Bargaining with God for my stuff or trying to be a better person in times of trouble? Not sure, but I hope it works.
Day 4 – Ok Seriously? Tears of frustration, between tears of fear and worry pile out. . Since I start my JOB tomorrow, I am forced to go shopping. Continental have given me a generous budget of $75 (not £) with which to secure shoes, slacks, a sweater and toiletries. Let’s see what I can do at Oxford Street on a Sunday.
Day 5 - I show up to work in pants that are about 6 inches too long and everyone else is wearing suits. Awesome. Have decided to take the extra $25 USD given to me for my per diem to invest in a dart board, cut out Continental’s logo and affix it to the background of said dartboard in order to create a visual of what my mind, body and soul would like to do to this airline. Instead, I rage and tell these important people I’m meeting this “funny” time that I’m going through. Maybe they will think I can show strength in times of adversity. Sure I can – as long as you don’t follow me into the bathroom.
Day 6 – I have tried convincing myself that Continental have donated my clothes to small starving children in Africa because they knew that I was the most caring, goodhearted person on that plane.. and that for my understanding I will get repaid tenfold by finding £1000000 on the street or maybe even better, a sugar daddy. My feet hurt because I bought cheap shoes. My pants have mud on them because, as per the usual, it has rained at one point during the day. The cheap button-up under my sweater has given me a nice 5 lbs excess, in addition to the 5lbs excess I’ve already developed over trying to drink back my luggage. I wished I had saved more last year to plan for horrors like this. I purposely bought a LOT of clothes in the States to avoid any of these costs coming over.
Suddenly, an email from my sister alerts me that Continental have found my luggage and it is on its way over right now! Oh thank goodness! It is going to be ok! I AM going to look normal soon! I get home, expecting to trip over my bag when I walk through the door. The door opens and ta-daa!
No bag, no sanity.
There is nothing left to do but sit on my couch and sulk. Sulk about the jerk on the flight, the idiots that are employed at Continental, the global mobility people at work who made me take the cheaper flight, the money wasted on bulky blouses and non-tailored trousers, the fact that I may never see my slippers or my new sweater dress again. All hope is lost. I want to start this journey over. I’m drinking wine for breakfast from now on.
Just as I am headed to sleep, *RING*. My luggage was delivered!! It was here, downstairs, delivered by a man named Simon. After hugging him and telling him he was my best friend, he told me I must not have a lot of friends. I replied “ not a lot of friends who bring me a suitcase full of clothes and shoes!!” JOY JOY JOY!!
I carried it with no effort to my room and breathed a sigh of relief as I opened my treasure, my second chance at happiness. This was not just stuff. This was proof of my preparation. My slacks and sweaters were my armour, protecting me from the evils of the world that were so obviously out to get me. My shoes were my mode of transportation - if I were to take the wrong tube line home and get lost in my own neighbourhood, well then damnit- I’ll get lost comfortably. Just as all was lost, all was found. I put on my slippers and took an Advil just because I had one. I sat on top of all my clothes, willing them to be a part of me, to never leave me again .
And I finally thought, “I can do this.”