Three sleeps to go!

Three sleeps to go, people! Three! And you know the one good thing about this whole Ash Cloud O’Doom extravaganza? It means that I’ll be so relieved to be getting on that plane on Saturday morning that I haven’t even bothered to go through my usual “OMG, what if the plane crashes? I bet the plane will crash!” hysteria or anything. Well, I mean, there was that dream in which we became the first people to fly directly through the heart of the ash cloud “Just to see what would happen”, but other than that, SCREW the fear or flying, just get me on that plane, bring me the little miniature bottle of wine or three and let’s get the hell out of Dodge, people, seriously. Also, the Ash Cloud seems to have abated somewhat, so although I hesitate to tempt fate in this way, I’m tentatively hopeful that we’ll be going to Florida this weekend, and that the plane will not crash.

(I am SO dying in a plane crash this weekend, aren’t I? And then all of the advance posts I’ve written for my my blogs will continue to publish on schedule, so it’ll be like I’m speaking to you from beyond the grave. About shoes. Because that’s totally what my ghostly self would return to earth to talk about, isn’t it?) 

Anyway, today is my last day of work – or I hope so, anyway. The aim is to have everything finished up by tonight, so I can spend Thursday and Friday cleaning the house, packing my suitcase, re-packing my suitcase, and working my way through my cryptic pre-holiday To-Do list, which simply says things like “eyelashes!” and “Rubin!”. I am AWESOME at this, seriously.

(I will also be spending some of that time going to the dentist to have impressions taken for my next few sets of braces. I am terrified about this, because apparently when I said all that stuff about not being afraid of the dentist, I had yet to know the horror that is having a giant metal tray stuffed into your mouth so you can’t breathe or swallow, and you become convinced you’re going to throw up, and then suffocate, because, well, there’s a huge metal tray blocking your mouth. Terrified.)

Our flight is at stupid  o’clock on Saturday morning (I’ve just been thinking about this, and I actually can’t remember ever catching a flight that wasn’t at stupid o’clock in the morning, other than the couple that were at stupid o’clock at night, that is. Why do they do that to you, do you think? Is it so you’re so exhausted you become more docile and easy to manage? Because that doesn’t work with me, airlines, just FYI.), so once again we’ll be spending Friday night at my parents place, which is closer to the airport. Rubin, meanwhile, will be spending the next three weeks with Terry’s mum, who I’m sure is preparing a fattened calf as we speak, in preparation for his visit. He’s also in disgrace, having repeatedly rooted through Terry’s open suitcase, and twice removed and chewed a tube of toothpaste.

(“WHO DID THIS?!” Terry asked me incredulously, holding the mangled tube aloft, as if there was a possibility that I had got down on my hands and knees next to the suitcase and ripped the tube apart with my teeth. Me.)

(Wow, I’ve really used a LOT of parentheses in this post, haven’t I? Sorry. I’m over-excited.)

For the next three days, then, I’ll be living in that Limbo Land of pre-holiday preparation, where everything you do is either just marking time or getting ready for all the fun you’ll be having this time next week. I know I shouldn’t wish it away, and God knows, the passing of time continues to freak me out good, but honestly, I wish these next three days AWAY. Begone! Haste ye, oh weekend, when I will be back in my favourite place in the world, for three whole weeks.

First, though, I have exactly 11 blog posts to write. Better get on with that, then…