I think the reality of what I'm about to do hit me this morning. Early this morning, in fact. I woke up before 6am to the fear that I don't have enough money for my trip. My conscious mind knows that is complete bollocks, but my subconscious was having a minor freak-out.
My suitcase came down from the top of the wardrobe yesterday, which could have something to do with it. I have now begun the process of flinging things into the open suitcase, in an effort to make sure nothing important gets left behind. I have been subscribing to the chaos theory of packing, which basically holds that there is no point keeping all holiday-related items in one spot. The result is a mad-cap rush around the bedroom, attempting to recall which drawers and shelves are housing the things I need to make the next 12 months as comfortable as possible. It's quite a shambles in that room at present, which probably is the real reason I'm hiding out in the computer room.
Yesterday I bade farewell to my "Crazy Granny" (the Russian Empress, to those of you familiar with the stories); Shedes; and Theresa and Jane. The latter farewell was jollied along by bottles of red wine - with a screw top, Lord help us - standards slipping. I don't like these "seeya later" events, that's for sure.
As you can tell, my brain is wired about the trip and what I've committed to, so going back to sleep isn't an option. I think I will just content myself with a cup of strong coffee, and the company of my beloved Barkley The Wonder Pooch, and hold onto both as long as I can.
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