early september, 3

earlier today in US Pacific Time one of my English-major friends landed with her mom and step-dad in London. We had talked so much beforehand and are probably equal-status Anglophiles, and seeing her there has made the idea of my own adventure seem terrifyingly real.

the last few nights I've climbed into bed before my regular 3 AM curfew and have been entirely unable to sleep. I think of all the things I have to do before I leave, I think of passing out on the plane, I think of falling asleep and having to be woken up when the plane lands, I think of getting lost, I think of getting turned away by customs. I think about who will pet the cat when I am not home. I think about having tissues on hand at every moment because I'm unsure how my allergies will collide with cold(er) weather. I imagine myself against backdrops. I worry, fear inflating my chest, peeling my eyes open. And then I leap out of bed and sit at the computer, I look up the weather in London, I make sure Norwich and Edinburgh still exist, I write two lines of a short story, I re-read journal entries from last february, I turn off the fan and turn it back on, I trip over the cat, I check twitter, I knit a few stitches, and somehow in the morning wake up two hours after the time I'd set my alarm for.

by this time exactly a week from now, I will have been on the plane for just over two hours. When I imagine myself on the plane I am either 1) crying or 2) sleeping while they bring around the food. I've yet to imagine myself hopping over passengers to get to the bathroom but I'm sure it's only a matter of time.

I have yet to finish packing; to get my room clean enough to sit still for three months; to make five copies of every piece of paper I'm taking abroad; to feel any of this is real for more than a glimmering, stomach-hammering moment.

tomorrow I'll attend an hour-and-a-half session on ergonomics for work. It's required once in three years and I can't help feeling slightly irked at how unfortunate the timing is. I don't earn enough per hour to pay off how much it may take in gas to drive over, and beyond this, it starts at 9 AM, so I have to leave unspeakably early to avoid traffic. Have I mentioned that 3 AM is my usual bedtime?

but when it's done, I'll pick up luggage tags and pester Mom to help me find the box with all my towels and tupperware in our backyard storage shed.

Dad has helped me figure out what to do about a phone/international card in the last few days, as well, so I'm feeling slightly more prepared in material ways to set off.