Can you please stop repacking!
I want to shout that out to my mum, but I know it’s pointless. Travelling stresses her out, and she deals with it by packing.
It does not matter which part of the civilised world she is going to, she gears up like she is heading out into the wilderness. There are supplies, and then there are emergency supplies, and then there are backup supplies in case the emergency supplies fail.
She’s going for a week; with enough medicines for a month. Just in case we go into a state of emergency and all the airlines AND pharmacies shut down!
And mind you she is going to visit her brother; so it’s not like she is going to be stranded all by herself with no one to help her!
We need to leave the house at 7:30am tomorrow. She has two alarms set for 6am, has reconfirmed that I have set my alarms too, and that the Uber has indeed been booked for 7:15am, ’cause you know those fellows are always late!
It’s 11pm right now. The suitcase is packed (or at least I think so, but I’m not placing my hand over the Bible or anything), and we have moved on to the next critical step in decision making – which handbag shall she carry? The purse, which should suffice to carry her wallet, some makeup and tickets; the big purse, in case she wants to throw a bottle of water in; or the big tote, in case she wants to go shopping…
Fifteen minutes back I excused myself claiming that I needed to do a web check in.
Fifteen very quiet minutes; so quiet in fact that I’m beginning to worry if she has abandoned Project Purse-selection, and gone back to repacking the suitcase.
I better go check. If she doesn’t even go to sleep, then all those alarms are going to ring tomorrow morning for absolutely no reason!