Fear of Flying
Guys, I walk among you a marked woman. I am a dead woman blogging. The sand, it has nearly reached the bottom of the hourglass of my life. Or, to put it bluntly: I have seven days left to live. This time next week I will be falling to my fiery death, somewhere above the Atlantic Ocean. I am absolutely sure of this, because I? Am frightened of flying. Did I mention I was frightened of flying?
Even although I’m really excited about going to Florida, which is my favourite place ever (this will be my 9th trip, I think. So yeah, we go there a LOT.) I’ve now reached that stage in my preparations where if someone were to come to me and say, "You know what? You could just stay here!" I’d be all, "Yeah, OK, whatever. Who cares that I’ll lose a lot of money on the plane ticket, at least I’ll live to see another day!" So, you could say I’m not feeling too good about the flight right now, or, of course, you could say that I’m absoolutely freaking the hell out here. Only one of those statments would be totally accuate. (Clue: It’s the second one). Last night a plane flew over our house (this happens a lot, of course – we live under the flight path for Edinburgh airport) and it was "Goodbye sleep, hello lying-awake-for-hours-imaging-all-the-different-ways-we-might-die-next-Monday!" GOD.
I blame the pilot who flew Terry and I out to the Canary Islands on our honeymoon. Sure, I was terrified of flying before that, but the whole "skidding sideways down the runway" thing really didn’t help, you know?
So, basically, as far as I’m concered, on Monday? We die. Which kinda makes me wonder why I bothered cleaning the house and washing my hair today, but I guess not even imminent death can change the habits of a lifetime. I really wish I’d just bought those red shoes I saw last week, though. I mean, carpe diem and all that.
I am thinking of going to the doctor and asking for… well, drugs, basically. I’m thinking drugs might help. Then again, they haven’t helped much in the past, so maybe I should just save myself the price of the prescription and buy wine instead? Or whiskey. Whiskey sounds good.
Seven days to go. What should I do with the time I have left, I wonder?