I leave in two days. Tonight, tomorrow and gone. I'm not ready. I'm not emotionally prepared for travelling. I have things left to do. I haven't got a will. Aaargh.
I need to breathe. My tummy is in knots and I want to call everyone and cancel. Which is silly. I hate travelling. Really I do. I hate going new places and seeing things and doing stuff because I could be at home watching TV, reading blogs and cuddling with puppies. Puppies who are currently asleep on the bench under the window and doing nothing to help me at this moment. Traitors.
One more night shift. And then a nap, supper with The Guy's parents and an evening of panicked finishing of packing and sneaking in more clothes that I promised I didn't need to take with me. And then no sleep because I'm too worked up and then 7:30am to the airport. Followed by crashing (to sleep not to death... I hope!) and sleeping and waking up and being too grouchy to go out until the next day.
That's a lot for one girl to handle.