Priority Use

I'm terrible at buying plane tickets. The process always includes me calling everyone I know (sometimes even knocking on doors) to ask when everyone thinks I should leave and what their plans are for the potential departure days that I am considering, and then checking every possible airline website to make sure that I am, indeed, getting the best possible deal.

This process also always includes a phone call to my dad whence I ask him when I should come home and he says, in his usual tone of voice, "Honey? Do you have problems making decisions?" And then I yell, "Yes!" Then he counsels me on the fact that there "are no wrong decisions." Yaddah yaddah.

Last night, he even made me tell him what would happen if I chose the wrong day to come back. "Well," I said, "I'd be sad and wish I was home. Or, I'd be sad and wish I was here." Then, he told me how big the universe was and said something about there being billions of stars or something and how long it would take to get across the galaxy--point being, it didn't really matter when I came and left. I don't know, really. I started to tune that part out. He sure doesn't make it easy to be emotional, that's for sure.

Anyway, long story short, I bought my plane tickets.