27 August 2010

And when you find it, you keep it

Milton sat perched on my printer this morning, like a vulture or a gargoyle, eyes intent, ears forward, watching the paper come forth. About the time half the document had printed, he swiftly reached in the paper slot and ripped the sheet out, pulling it straight to his mouth.

The cat ate my boarding pass.

I pulled out a suitcase last night. Milton stalked around, a hunted expression in his eyes.

He hates when any of us travel, but he most especially hates it when I travel. If one of the children goes off to spend the night with a friend, he roams the house, uttering a deep, mournful mrrowrr, and refuses to settle down. When I am gone, he runs frantically room to room, yelling with alarm (or so I am told). Of course, when I return, he is devil-may-care, oh-you're-here-are-you? Yawn.

Right now, he's sleeping, ignoring me. It would be a good time to actually fill the suitcase, but I've been hit with a sort of languorous panic where I go limp and I'm tempted to throw caution to the wind, and toss in jeans and a t-shirt and just go. But that's not the way I travel. I have to think about it. What gear do I need? Shoes? Do these jeans make me look fat? Oh, and where is that boarding pass? But I might want blue eye shadow!

(I haven't worn blue eyeshadow since I was in eighth grade.)

This nonsense generally results in enough clothing to last me a week and enough makeup to outfit Cirque du Soleil, while I usually leave the bits and pieces I could really use (CAMERA?) at home.

Suffice to say that bright and early tomorrow morning, I will be digging around in some folder, shrieking, "Where is my ticket?"

It's chaos, but it's chaos I love. It's an airplane, but for something I love (believe me, I have to love it to get on an airplane). And tomorrow, when I get where I am going, I'll be able to relax a moment and let the joy of the experience take me.

For now, I pack.

Go listen to some good music: "White Shadows" from the album X&Y by Coldplay. Worst airplane ride ever: Moline to St. Paul. OMG...I've seen paper towel rolls bigger than that plane! And yeah, actually I'm pretty close to packed.

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