author: Nicole J. LeBoeuf

So I'm currently in pre-travel freak-out mode. I know you can't tell from where you're sitting--I'm very good at hiding it!--but it's true. I'm in the last 24 hours before departure, and inside my head where nobody can see, I'm freaking out.

This is a thing that I do. Last-minute deadline stress isn't just for writing deadlines, y'all.

Tomorrow, John and I get on a train bound for New Orleans. Which is to say, we get on the train to Chicago, and in Chicago we will catch the train for New Orleans. This is the most direct route, and will be until such time as Amtrak becomes convinced it'll be feasible to create or reinstate other routes through Denver. (Cross your fingers with me. I want to see this happen in my lifetime.) Should the train be on time (as so far it's said to be), it will depart at 7:10 PM, so theoretically we don't need to get our happy luggage-toting butts down to Denver Union Station until about 6:30 or so. However, I've also got this fun but completely unnecessary idea that we should eat dinner there before we go. Which means we need to get out the house and onto a bus no later than 3:00.

Here are all the things I have to do before that time:

• Pack all the things. Clothes, computer, headphones, knitting, cross-stitch, fruitcake, skates, etc.
• Re-booze the fruitcake before packing it.
• Give freshly-washed derby gear a chance to dry before packing.
• Clean the fridge - freeze or throw out what'll go bad before our return.
• Read the AINC programming that's due Saturday, since I can't very well do it on the train.
• Maybe go to the dentist if they have time to look at the bit of today's filling that feels like a popcorn shell stuck between my teeth.
• Whatever else I'm forgetting. There's probably something.

(I wanted to get the current closet bi-fold finished by now, but, alas, that didn't happen. I have given myself permission not to worry about it. It's a bold move but I think, in this particular circumstance, it'll work.)

The up-side of all this stress is, it vanishes the moment I board the train. I mean completely. At that point, everything is done, or almost everything; and anything that isn't done can no longer be done, so it's not my responsibility anymore. My responsibility at that point becomes "Enjoy the ride. And maybe get some work done, too." I can't begin to describe how very much I'm looking forward to that point.

It's now nearly a quarter 'til midnight. I suppose I'd better start cleaning that fridge. Best place to begin, I think, is by eating some of what's in it. I haven't had dinner yet and I'm starting to feel it. Good night, all; when next I write, it'll be from Union Station.