The last 48 hours
When you go on vacation, things go into hyperdrive.
Need to pack.
Yes, that’s obvious. But what? Realize that you have only lost one of the 30 pounds you’ve tried to shed in the past 6 months, and you can’t bear to wear your fat clothes anymore, so it’s time to shop. Three days, three malls, umpteen stores, countless horrified reveals in traumatized dressing rooms, and a mortgage payment later, your bedroom is littered with shopping bags of all shapes sizes and price tags.
Need to do some personal me time things. Facial, eyebrow wax, lip max, botox (yeah, I do that. Whaddyagonnadoaboutit?). Get nails done. Force yourself to relax by leaning as focusing in the massage chair, leaning into it so that you don’t think of your to do list. Over do it and walk around with a bruised back for two days.
Obsess whole time you are taking me time about all the things you are not currently getting done.
Make sure everything is set for Senior Party planning to proceed in your absence. Sqear you will not check emails. Realize you are only one with access to party emails, and ignoring a half dozen smoke signals every day will result in a conflagration of epic proportions on your return. Grrr. Negotiate with yourself: you may check emails once in the morning and once in the evening, and will forward or table everything you can. Know that as you shake hands with yourself you are both lying.
Get asked last minute to take on a foster dog. Feel wretched about saying no. Write three From Fosters to Forevers posts in advance, and bring all teh stuff to (hopefully) keep up with that. Five minutes a day. That’s it. I swear. It’s for teh dogs…(secretly admit to self that you are super excited to see French dogs).
As you fly around your house, ripping tags off of new clothes (every ounce counts with Mr TSA), happily say “I’ll clean that yup when I get back.” Remember that you return on a Wednesday, have a meeting Wednesday night, one Thursday night, then host a dunner party for 10 Friday night. Quickly run around picking up trash.
Write instruction letter for Singer Girl. Realize that she is 18, so you don’t need a guardian to authorize medical care. Feel sad. Then realize: she’s 18. If she can’t figure out what to do while we are gone that’s her problem. So don’t write a big note. Feel happy.
Wonder…will the Senior Party auction do well in your absence? Will Singer Girl decide on a college? A prom hairstyle? What do we have to do for her graduation party? Oh yeah — need to order announcements for that…
Wonder if it’s too early to drink.
Make sure all credit cards, debit cards and cell phones will work in Europe.
Turn off newspaper cuz you know Singer Girl will ever pick it up.
Don’t turn off mail, even though you want to, because Singer Girl still doesn’t realize it comes every day. But can’t, because for some reason her new Driver’s License hasn’t arrived yet, even though you renewed yours at same time and yours arrived a week ago.
Haven’t grocery shopped in days, knowing that you need to do it for the girl. Listen to family grumble at the spoiled milk and sad lettuce heads in the fridge. Order Chinese and drink wine.
While getting hair done, frantically transpose all the notes you have obsessively been making on shops and restaurants in Paris onto the map you have created. Look like a dork — but your hair looks good!
Realize the uber is coming in 15 minutes and you need to turn off laptop. Promise the readers that you will do your best to have weird adventures and tell them all about it. Watch Singer Girl’s video one last time, and realize how lucky you are.