And on we go, and on, and on, forever.
My bags are packed; my carry-on is filled with books, electronics, plush dinosaurs, and things to eat on the plane (since when you combine 'picky eater' with 'allergies,' feeding me becomes a heroic quest in and of itself). My Siamese is in a tizzy as she tries to figure out what's going on, and how she can stop it from happening.
The house still smells like the turkey and cranberry sauce that I made last night for dinner; I smell predominantly like Bath and Bodyworks Pumpkin Pie shower gel and Bad Luck Woman Blues BPAL perfume. My bedroom has managed to actually remain clean throughout the packing process, unless you count the unmade bed, which I don't. Never take a trip after making everything absolutely perfect. It's bad luck. Encourages the world to think 'oh, this space has already been prepared for the funeral.'
My iTunes has been running on random shuffle all morning long, and every other song is by the Counting Crows. The soundtrack of my life, for most of my life, and (in that little thirteen-year-old corner of my heart where everything gets to be absolute and undebated) the most perfect band that's ever been. (This is also the corner of my heart where there's never going to be another book as good as IT, or another movie as perfect as Slither. I have a very stubborn heart sometimes.)
In a little under an hour, I'll head for the airport; in a little over four hours, I'll be on a big silver sky-bird, taking off for parts well-known and adventures unknowable. I have my new camera, I have directions to Voodoo Doughnut, and I have my flash drive (since it's well-known that the best way to drive me to distraction is to take it away from me). I have my writing goals and my rehearsing goals and my personal goals and my turkey and cranberry sauce sandwiches, and I'm ready for a winter wonderland.
I hope today is wonderful for all of you, whether it's something you celebrate or just a day where all the stores are closed and you can't find a parking place at the movie theater. Go gladly today. Let the world be filled with magic.
And if you want to spare a few good wishes for my flight, well, I'm sure it couldn't hurt.
The house still smells like the turkey and cranberry sauce that I made last night for dinner; I smell predominantly like Bath and Bodyworks Pumpkin Pie shower gel and Bad Luck Woman Blues BPAL perfume. My bedroom has managed to actually remain clean throughout the packing process, unless you count the unmade bed, which I don't. Never take a trip after making everything absolutely perfect. It's bad luck. Encourages the world to think 'oh, this space has already been prepared for the funeral.'
My iTunes has been running on random shuffle all morning long, and every other song is by the Counting Crows. The soundtrack of my life, for most of my life, and (in that little thirteen-year-old corner of my heart where everything gets to be absolute and undebated) the most perfect band that's ever been. (This is also the corner of my heart where there's never going to be another book as good as IT, or another movie as perfect as Slither. I have a very stubborn heart sometimes.)
In a little under an hour, I'll head for the airport; in a little over four hours, I'll be on a big silver sky-bird, taking off for parts well-known and adventures unknowable. I have my new camera, I have directions to Voodoo Doughnut, and I have my flash drive (since it's well-known that the best way to drive me to distraction is to take it away from me). I have my writing goals and my rehearsing goals and my personal goals and my turkey and cranberry sauce sandwiches, and I'm ready for a winter wonderland.
I hope today is wonderful for all of you, whether it's something you celebrate or just a day where all the stores are closed and you can't find a parking place at the movie theater. Go gladly today. Let the world be filled with magic.
And if you want to spare a few good wishes for my flight, well, I'm sure it couldn't hurt.