Time has gone all elastic on me. Yesterday as I contemplated today from the safe distance of 24 hours, it seemed that there was plenty of it. Now it is 8.30 pm and I have yet to complete a long list of tasks which include some pretty fundamental ones like packing and putting the bins out.
It is not entirely my fault. My day has been peppered by text messages and phone calls, mainly from the team members we are taking across to Melbourne tomorrow who have suddenly realised that they did have questions, after all. That is absolutely fine, I would rather they asked than didn’t – like someone who assumed that I had organized a special ‘fragile check-in’ for certain types of luggage because she believed I was a magician, I guess.
I wanted to take the dogs for a nice long walk this evening but that did not work out. Halfway around the park the rain came down. It has been the most extraordinary start to spring. Normally, the Australian weather leaps without a backward glance towards summer, but in 2016, we have experienced the coldest September in 40 years and this explains why the electric blanket is still wrapped around the mattress. I will miss walking my dogs terribly in the coming week. I don’t find it a chore at all and the only slightly inconvenient thing about it is the unblinking stare which comes from Lucy from about a hour before she thinks the walk should take place, to the minute I slip her harness on. This stare includes following me to the toilet and lying with exaggerated patience at the door, and re-joining me on the couch with an melodramatic sigh after realising it was a false alarm.
So I have promised myself as I have a little crack of time tomorrow morning that I will take them for a longer walk. I will have this time only if I can complete what should be the easy task of packing my case. I would love to be one of those people who just throw in five white T shirts and a pair of belted jeans, but that is never going to happen and I have already had to stop myself adding ridiculous items to the pile in the bag.
My stomach is in knots with fear – as it always is before I fly, and it does not help that there have been two recent near miss incidents with the airline we are using – all of which were minor and had no disastrous outcome. Just to make myself even more nervous, I am actually watching a program about flying as I type this. I have no idea why.
What I do know is that I had the idea that I would write a load on Sunday and stack up a handful of scheduled posts, and then didn’t, so unless a miracle occurs and I find myself being able to do some thing other than stare blankly at the loudest movie I can find on the plane I have more or less doomed myself to a week of eighteen hour days with a whole bunch of writing as part of that.
Lucy is staring at me again, but it is not the walk she wants to know about, it is the suitcase in the bedroom and why I have moved the TV in there for my husband while I am away. I have told her not to worry, that it will be alright, because as much as I hate flying, flying is what I have to do tomorrow and so that is what I am trying to tell myself, too.