OK, right on schedule. I’m not sure exactly how or why it started but every time I travel anywhere overnight, I have an anxiety reaction. Usually it starts one to three days before departure and ferments until I actually leave. Then it fizzles through my purge valve for a day or two en route (most of it vented on airplanes) and then I’m clear of it.
I’ve never been away from (this) home for three whole weeks in a row. And, since married, I’ve never been apart from Audrey that long either.
So a little predictable pre-trip freakout. Over thinking the whole thing. Over packing (in my head). Over and over and over.
Thank God I’ve got Bill with me. The whole point of the trip, really. He’s got the compass.
Let’s just go already.