Breathe, Amy.

Breathe, Amy, breathe.

Known: that I get nervous before trips.
Unknown: why I am so much more worried than usual about this one.

We head out in 72 hours. (O Canada…) Packing list: done. Clothes: not yet washed. Mind: not yet calmed. While it is normal for me to worry about takeoffs and landings a bit, it's been quite some time since I've experienced the sheer volume of worry and unease that's floating around my gut regarding this trip.

It isn't that hard. Drive to Birmingham. Stay in a hotel room. Board the first of two flights; then board the second flight. Emerge on the other side of the continent. Use cell phone, locate friends arriving in airport. Pick up rental car, drive to Canadian border, pass (hopefully unmolested) through Customs. Drive to Tsawwassen, catch ferry, goggle at sheer beauty of Vancouver Island, drive to Brad's apartment, drop off tired members of travelling party, catch cab with other untired members and head to local pub with loud music.

So where's the fear coming from? Why am I troubled? No answers come easily. I should be thrilled and excited about this trip: quality time with my spouse, just emerging from graduate school; quality time with dear friends both old and new.

Quality time should not point toward an antacid, but right now, it does.

Left to do before leaving:

  • Mail plates back to Lenox
  • Create directions for driving
  • Set up alarm code for Kat / give her a key
  • Drop off white comforter for dry-cleaning
  • Give Kat plant watering schedule
  • Put out trash night before
  • Pick up / photocopy passports
  • Cut Jeff's hair (if we have time)

In addition to the usual stuff, that is…