Its That Time Of The Year again. Where I sleep the sleep of the disturbed, the panic-stricken, for a week beforehand. We are Going On Holiday... and I just haven't managed to put my finger on what exactly I should be doing to get ready.
The venue is sorted - or rather was, until a text came through from the person we're getting the keys from, to tell me that someone else is giving us the keys. This someone is so far just a mobile number - would it be
I've yelled at the 12 year old to shift the contents of his bedroom floor into the laundry basket. I don't know what I'd expected him to wear in the meantime, but largely thought I'd caught up on his dirty washing. Am also harbouring some kind of need to shove the shower curtain through a hot cycle and to clean the bathroom tiles, perhaps hoover the stairs; general pre-holiday malaise, nothing specific...
Actually I'm avoiding packing my clothes. I hate this bit; all I've got to do is get the clothes I usually wear and put them in a case, sensibly rolled up to maximise the space, etc. But 8 days, with nothing to wear except what's in the case is tricky. It calls for a bit of forward-planning and all that. It should be a doddle - a couple of pairs of black jeans, t-shirts, some skirts, a frock or two, a load of jewellery, and lots of layers... maybe a tarpaulin if this summer non-weather carries on. For someone who never has to have a different pair of shoes and matching handbag for every outfit, its a no-brainer really. So What Is My Problem??? Am I genetically programmed to be permanently last-minute.com?