I really don't like getting ready for a trip. It's the fear of what will I forget. And then I start on with the what will I miss. My bed, my pillows, making my own coffee in the morning. I am a mess when I have to get ready for a trip. There's scattered piles of clothes and whatnot in every room. Then I feel I have to totally clean the whole house and do every project I've been putting off - raking or polishing the floor. Stupid stuff
Miss Lady has a nice worried expression. She's about to abandon her luggage and try to make it through her flight in that tiny waisted dress. I'll be more comfortably attired but as equally worried about my luggage and what oceans are between Minnesota and Phoenix. Shut up - I'm bad at geography.
Then I'm on the trip and I'm used to the new routine and all is well.
Then comes the end. I have to pack up all my dirty clothes and I don't want to go home. I'm used to hotel or gas station coffee and getting food by hunting and gathering (or going to weird places). I come home and it's not where I want to be even though I didn't want to leave in the first place.
But I'll get the itch again, I'll start dreaming of my next road trip and I won't remember any of the angst. Until the day before, among the piles.
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