So, I've hit the wall, and I might have mentioned that already, but we leave in a week -- less than a week, actually, if you want to get all technical about it, six days and fifteen hours almost to the minute -- and I have officially started with this thing that my brain does before I go on vacation, where it can't stop itself from running around in circles at twice the speed of light and it won't shut off or slow down and then my eye starts twitching and everything becomes one giant run-on sentence and stream of consciousness nightmare like a Kafka novel or something and every waking thought I have is taken up by excited utterances that don't make any damn sense like "Razors and granola bars!" and "Pretzels and mascara!" and "Benadryl and camera charger!" and subconsciously I can even see the exclamation points and if any English teachers are reading this they probably had a stroke a little ways back there and the sad part is that I KNOW WHAT ALL THESE THINGS MEAN and the REALLY sad part is that I don't think I'm ever going to get to the part where my brain yells "Cigarettes and alcohol!" and my mouth which has been waiting all this time for just the right moment to do something useful can finally say "HELL YES!" in agreement and I can finally get to the period at the end of this sentence because DAMN.
Cigarettes and alcohol! HELL YES! Period!
And would you believe me if I told you that I actually enjoy traveling? It's true, not that you'd be able to tell from the nervous breakdowns that I have around about this point before every single trip I've ever taken that I can remember. Even when we went to the shore last year, which is maybe the most ridiculous thing ever. I mean honestly, who freaks out about going to New Jersey?
We really don't have all that much to do still. I already have one bag packed with the bulk of Shae's clothes, and mine too. I'm pretty sure that my husband at least has a plan for what he needs to pack, even if he doesn't actually have anything actually in a suitcase yet. We basically just need to get our dress clothes for the wedding together, and our shoes, and we need to get our toiletries in a bag. So I really don't know what I am panicking about, but I always do this. Always. It's practically part of the vacation planning checklist: (1) Airline reservations (2) Hotel reservations (3) Rental car reservations (4) Miscellaneous (5) Profit (6) Panic attack.
(I think maybe I am starting to get a sense of why my husband claims to hate vacations.)
Another thing I always do is unpack and re-pack the already packed stuff at least once, to double check. Did I remember socks? Pajamas? Of course I did, and even if I didn't, it's not like we're going to the Third World or the South Pole or somewhere where there are no Targets or Wal-Marts. Anything we forget, we can always find somewhere. But I don't want to have to do that, especially this time, because if we're going to get lost trying to navigate the California freeway system, I want to it be because we are looking for something desperately urgent like an In-N-Out Burger, not something frivolous and unnecessary like underpants.
So, in short: I am the reason why every American should be allowed to buy Ativan in airports and interstate rest stops. The end.
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