Holy Swiss Cheese And Whine

So it looks like Mr. Handsome is going to Geneva. As in, that place in Switzerland. And I'm not. So I've been wracking my brains trying to think of a way to make it necessary for me to go along with him, besides the fact that he is lost without me. Lost, I say. Not that he would even remotely realize this perpetual state of lostness because, guys, THAT's just how LOST he is!

Mr. Handsome is heading over there to present some nonsense to the United Nations blahblahblah. And what did YOU do today, Mary? Oh, I changed my underwear, picked three toes and called the cops on some guy who thought he could just park in front of our house and use his cell phone, as if I wouldn't know he was actually a spy, or a ninja. Probably both.

I begged and pleaded with Mr. Handsome, but alas, he said there was "NO WAY, NO HOW" that I could accompany him because a plane ticket would cost us our firstborn, to which I said, "Where do I sign?". So, as a form of revolt, I decided to pack my April chock-full of ever-so-fun activities and appointments just to f**k with Mr. Handsome's mind and make him feel guilty he ever said no to me.

For April so far I have a doctor appointment in Toronto, preparations for my amazing trip to New York City with Slut, her momma and sister (ohmygodIcan'twait!!), and a fundraiser that Slut and I organize every year to raise money for a camp for children with cancer that Dee attends. Doesn't sound like a lot, I know, but it is, when you consider that the most I usually do in any given day is get out of bed and find an almost clean pair of underwear to put on.

So, the other evening, as Mr. Handsome and I were spending some quality time together belittling the children, I mentioned how extremely busy April was going to be for us (meaning me), and literally out of the blue, he says, "That's too bad, because I was thinking you could come to Switzerland with me."

After my head stopped spinning a la Linda Blair, I smacked him upside his head, shouted some choice obscenities at him, and told him I wanted a divorce. Then he genuflected in front of me and begged me for forgiveness, which I have yet to give him, because HELLO?!?!?! What.The.Hell?!

Apparently, flight prices to Geneva are on the way down, so suddenly, getting to Switzerland isn't as crazy expensive as it was last month. And now, Mr. Handsome is either (1) thinking it may now be financially feasible to take me along, (5) thinking about how much fun it would be to spend some quality time with me in a country far, far away, or (B) thinking that yes, perhaps it would be a damn good idea to take his wife along halfway around the world because he finally realizes and fully accepts that HE NEEDS ME IN ORDER TO LIVE.

However, now it's a bit of a BIG problem because I've got so much going on at exactly the same time as Mr. Handsome's Monumental Event, and I just don't know if I can move anything around. In fact, I KNOW I can't move anything around, because I've been waiting almost a year for this doctor's appointment, and the fundraiser date is also set in stone. And god forbid I leave Slut to her own devices with this bowlathon-fundraiser-from-hell, although last time that happened (I had a retinal detachment -- okay, don't believe me, whatever), the bowlathon raised more money than when I actually help out! I'm still thinking coincidence.

So, now I am so flustered and beside myself with anxiety because I have no idea what to do. Help?

P.S. Thank you to everyone for your amazingly erudite advice regarding finding out as much as humanly possible about my new neighbours. I thought I'd tell you I've decided what I'm going to do. It goes something like this:

I'm going to send Dee over to peek through their first-floor windows. When he gives me the "all clear" whistle (a combination of an owl hoot and a lark's coo, mixed with a little Michael Jackson), I will skulk over, and plant an invisible bug that I've put together in my spare time that is tied with very thin thread and balanced precariously on the door handle, so that when the present neighbour (commonly known as "HER") comes home, she will unknowingly become attached to said invisible bug via her hand, bring it INTO the house with her, and (this is the important part, people, so don't lose me now) when she goes into the bathroom, she will AGAIN unknowingly plant the invisible bug under the toilet seat (and I'm POSITIVE she holds the toilet seat because, well, doesn't everyone?!), where it will stay and record every.single.thing in that house.

From there, I still have no idea where I'll go. I might have to use my steely reporter skills and get one of my realtor friends to do some land title research for me (thanks Marie A.! for the idea), and then befriend a detective, or maybe send Dog The Bounty Hunter a sexy email, so that more in-depth research can be completed.

I've got it all under control, guys. You just watch.