“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did.” – Mark Twain
I’ve actually been ready to leave since last week. Except for the packing part. Does anyone else take hours to put together outfits for overseas? We’re supposed to pack versatile and not too “touristy” which is an art form in itself. I’m beginning to wonder if the clothing that I packed, in the heat of a 95-degree bedroom, will be warm enough for Italy. As my bedroom’s temperature rose, the outfits that I was putting together and trying on had less and less material. My “to-do-before-trip” loose ends have also been tied. By “loose ends” I mean that I purchased a new pizza cutter for Weston so he doesn’t starve while I’m away (our old one bit the dust) and I gave him three jobs to be done before I get back. The following sentence mainly serves as a reminder for him: 1.) Fix the closet hook 2.) Free up space on the bookshelf by selling back/returning rental/throwing out textbooks 3.) Finish off the peanut butter. (I bought a jar last night because I knew I’d only have a chance to make a few wraps before leaving. It’s one of my trigger foods.) Fortunately I don’t have a tendency to get homesick and I never realize how much I miss people until I’m reunited with them. Trips last so briefly, too briefly; one minute I’m typing this Lemons post on the bus to the airport hoping my battery doesn’t die, the next I’ll be home unzipping air from another country out of my suitcase.
The first thing people said when I told them that I’m going to Italy was, “Be Careful, foreign countries aren’t like the US.” I think that my parents have bets I’m going to do something dumb right off the bat like stash my luggage somewhere in the airport so I can run a few laps while waiting to board the plane. Do they think that I’m stupid? (I brought my bike chain to lock it to a toilet first.) I’m not worried about the dangers that may be ahead because I’ve been fortunate enough to never have something go wrong while on a trip. (Except for that one time. I was in Seattle and Canada during 9/11 but we won’t count that. I was too young to understand and be worried.) I’m not concerned with being abducted, chained to a street corner and forced to perform as an organ grinder with a monkey on my shoulder for the rest of my days because after my basic needs, I, like everyone else worry about the things that are important to them. For example, these questions are of my immediate possible concern:
-How long will I risk my glasses’ safety from using my shoe as a carrying case?
-How much will an overpriced case cost when I finally break down and buy one later on?
-How many times will I be able to crack a good sweat overseas?
Concerns loosely translated; I like being able to see clearly at all times, I don’t like buying overpriced necessities when I already have six of them at home and I like to exercise. I suppose if worse comes to worse, I can always do high-knees in the stall to get my heart pumping when the organ grinder slave owners let me go to the bathroom. If I do end up being stolen away, friends and family I ask that you pray for my happiness which comes in the form of seeing and sweating at least once a day. Off to lock my luggage to a toilet and “interval train” with the airplanes. Kidding. (Maybe.) Tootles!