It's a sunny Saturday in February and we are hours away from leaving on a well-deserved, much over-due vacation.
I am a mess.
We're still packing.
I've been up at 5 the last two mornings, filled with anxiety over departure. I've slept badly, nights filled with nervous wanderings through empty airports and missed flights.
Once we're on the plane, heading to our destination, I think I'll be better. Right now, I am making endless lists, moving things from one room to another. Worrying the minutia into the ground. I am at the end of a frayed rope, I've yelled at Ben more times this morning than the rest of the week put together. I've clenched my teeth and muttered under my breath.
We will get there, and it will be glorious, I'm sure. But for right now, I'd rather be any place else.