June 18, 2002~~1:51 p.m.
Not packed yet again...

I so do not belong sitting at the desk reading diaries. In less than 24 hours the car will pull out of the garage and we will be on our way. Husband is ready to go. I have yet to pack a single item.

It seemed to me that I was in a similar predicament last year, so I looked up the entry from the day before we left for Hawaii. At least I was sick then. I sort of had an excuse. This time, I have nothing.

What is it with me? It's not like I'm not excited about the trip. Nor am I a big fan of the stress I'm going to experience later when I realize that I have days of preparation and only hours to do it. Why? Why? Why? And when? When did I get so lame?

Here's the thing. I have it in my mind that we're going tomorrow. We'll go if I'm ready and we'll go if I'm not. Obviously, I'll be ready. There's no other choice. So I can spend all day packing and worrying about whether I have everything I'll want and need. Or I can rush around like a madwoman, go to bed way later than I'd like, BUT have the rest of the day to relax and do whatever I feel like at the moment. It really doesn't seem so senseless...

...to me. But to HIM. Oh. He is at his wit's end with me and my lack of readiness. "What DID you do all day?" he asked last night. "Umm.. I drove Shoe to his friend's house. And I went in to work for a couple of hours. And.. mumblemumblemumble." "You laid in the hammock. Didn't you? You're not packed at all and you laid in the hammock."

okayOKAYOKAY. Yes. I laid in the hammock. But it was not without purpose. It was my last chance to make sure my pre-Hawaii tan has created a nice foundation for those tropical rays. I wouldn't want to burn or anything.

"And you chatted. Didn't you? You chatted instead of packing."

"Ummm... not for VERY long."

I felt like a child being scolded by her father. I had no choice but to throw myself on the mercy of the court. "Yes. I was bad. I am a bad, bad packer. I laid in the sun. I chatted with a friend. I did not get ready for our trip. I am terrible. I suck. Are you happy now?"

"I will be happy when you are packed."

So now I have roughly two hours until he gets home. I want him to be happy. I do. And I figure that if I run around like crazy, I can make a good showing in about 45 minutes time. That leaves me with roughly an hour and fifteen minutes to waste without costing anyone a loss of happiness.

I think that seems fair.

~Alice