So tomorrow morning at the most ungodly hour imaginable we will be harassing our children into clothes and stuffing them in our friend’s van for the quick trip to the airport. The housesitter has been engaged, rides to and from have been arranged, tickets printed, clothing packed, lists checked and rechecked. I’m not sure it took this much advanced planning to launch the first space mission.
This dramatization of actual events will give you both an idea of how things are progressing:
The Lovely Rhonda: Did you pack your stuff?
Me: No. I don’t like that bag. I want the suitcase. The one in the middle kid’s closet.
TLR: Ugh. (sends kids out to play so we can sneak down hall and get suitcase)
Me: This suitcase is tiny! I can’t use this tiny suitcase! What the hell!
TLR: Ugh. (shows me where there is room in all the other suitcases for the rest of my stuff)
Me: My stuff will be spread out all over the place! This sucks! Why can’t I have a real suitcase!
TLR: Ugh. (opens bottle of wine)
As long as our wine stock holds up, I should make it out of this thing alive.