All Good Things Come To Those Who Waste

J-Fed is going transatlantic. The lucky bastard will be traveling to Europe for an upcoming business trip. That’s right the ding dong is going to get to see Big Ben. Life is hard. It was Italy in August; London in June. Ah, it’s good to be king. Of course, even the king must make plane reservations. And who better to help him than his queen? Whoops, did I say queen? I meant slave.

Now, many people will beg the question. Why Kiki? Why would you ever help the Fedster with anything at this point? Well, work means money and money or the lack thereof affects my bottom line. So helping him book his plane ticket to a land far away is my pleasure, especially since it means he’ll be bringing home the bucks. And if I’m a good girl, maybe he’ll bring me home some chocolate truffles to drown my sorrows in the realization that while he’s touring London, I’ll be here with the kids and the dogs.

It started with a phone call the other night.

“I’m going to London. Can you help me book the ticket please?” he asked politely. Only if it’s one way, I thought to myself. Of course, then I got to thinking. Maybe, just maybe, I could book him a plane ticket to some Third World country where it’s illegal to be an a-hole. Then he’d really see how hard life was when they sentenced him to life in a dungeon. If he thought life with me had been hell, that ought to teach him a lesson.

By the time he realized I had sent him to Mozambique, Uganda or a country that still had outbreaks of Ebola, I’d have his account cleaned out and be living under an alias somewhere in Canada with a hot new boyfriend I’d picked up along the way. The possibilities were endless! A girl can always dream.