If I don’t write something – be it plans, birthdays, appointments – down, I forget them.
Even when I do write them down, I find that the date sneaks up on me really, really quickly and then I make the sudden realisation that we fly out in just over a day and we haven’t packed, planned, confirmed a cat-sitter, organised a solid plan to get the kidlets back to their mum, or told my family we’re going overseas.
Ah, that old chestnut. (They all know now. I’m not that bad of a daughter/sister that I would wait until I’m overseas to tell them.)
It was written down, for sure. But considering that in my head I’d put the start of the trip down as ‘near the start of winter’ and it’s been so bloody warm around here, I thought it was at least another two weeks away. It’s not. Babs and I fly out to San Diego in 43 hours. We only just worked out how we’re going to get down to the airport (we’ll have to drive down at 3am on Saturday morning, 36 hours from now, and leave the car there), and we haven’t confirmed who’s going to look after our cat.
A week ago I was so convinced that this was going to be the trip where I plan. I was going to be prepared. I was going to have a schedule. I was going to have a budget.
At this point, I have none of those things. Sure, I’ve googled San Diego events and tried to get my head around what’s going on, but I really have no idea what I’m going to do (except for this totally rad ghost tour that I’ve found because GHOST TOURS YEAH).
There’s always the plane trip, though – right? We can only hope.*
Stay tuned for San Diego adventures.
*Hahahaha, hope is futile. I’m sleeping and watching movies.