The time for leaving

The time for leaving approaches. My attempts to whittle down on the to-do list continue. Slowly upon slowly, the attempts are succeeding.

Left:

• Pick up and photocopy passports
• Drop off white comforter for dry-cleaning
• Give Kat plant watering schedule
• Make mortgage and truck payments befure we leave
• Put out trash night before we leave
• Cut my hair
• Cut Jeff’s hair
• Power down computers
• Clean up kitchen
• Buy film. (Lots.)
• Do final loads of laundry and dishes
• Clean litterbox

Hard to believe—a week from tonight the journey begins. Pick up Jeff after work on Wednesday, and drive down to Birmingham with Heather. Stay the night—neatly enough, in the same hotel we stayed in the night before we flew up to Victoria last year. We’ll get up very early for an insanely early set of cross-country flights.

Flying raises many emotions in me. The geekchick in me is fascinated by the mechanics of it all. The silent adventurer loves the fact that I can board these almost-magical grey birds and end up in a place vastly different from the place I started off in. The restless girl in me gets bored with having to sit in the same place for several hours.

Then, of course, there’s the skittish control freak who has white knuckles during takeoffs and landings. I’m not as bad about this as I once was, but I could learn to be calmer.

I may not know how to fly the plane, but I’m uncomfortable being a passenger, shunted to the side and unable to make decisions controlling my own fate. (I have a healthy desire for self-determinism.)

But once I get there, it’ll all be good.

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