Ten, Nine, Eight, Seven......

"Bring your winter woollies," the Little Blister said.
Summer was last month in Ireland. This month it's "piddling rain and bloody freezing!"

"Bring your winter woollies," said Brit-Boy and the Lovely Natalie.
Summer came in the springtime to the UK. Now it's "piddling rain and bloody freezing" there too.

The Bean came home at the weekend and felt the tension the minute he walked in the door. Invisible, but tangible. It makes him want to turn and run!

"You're freaking out already mom, aren't you?"

 Not really. Pacing a lot, raking my fingers through my hair, avoiding the bedroom where my suitcase lies, open and empty on the floor, demanding to be filled. There was a cat in it for a while. When I freak out he freaks out. He catches the vibe when I still think I'm calm. He knows better. He can tell by the pacing, and the suitcase on the floor. The empty suitcase. A suitcase on the floor never bodes well. It means there's about to be an upheaval of some sort and El Gato dislikes upheavals of any sort. He feels if he climbs in and makes a nest he can alter the disturbing course of events. But he's been evicted and banned from the bedroom. I don't need every stitch I eventually pack covered in cat hair.How do you pack for "piddling rain and freezing" when it's 90 degrees in the shade? Under such conditions, long sleeved, cotton T-shirts start to look like winter woollies.

I'm tense, excited,  nervous....It's not the travelling that bothers me. It's the "What ifs." With the OC in the Far North and The Bean only here on weekends a little voice in my head starts up.....

What if there's a hurricane and large trees fall on the house?

What  if it's so hot the water evaporates from the pool to an extent that makes the pump explode?

What if it rains so hard the pool overflows? [next life, no pool.]

What if unmentionable, scary things happen to people I love while I'm off, swanning around Ireland?

What if I were to take a deep breath, as I've been learning to do at yoga? Because I know that all the fretting is futile.  I know this, but that little voice in my head apparently never got the memo!

I have a list as long as my arm of things to do before Thursday.

You'd think I'd be doing them.

But no. I've been in the sewing room, puttering---to take my mind off the impending need to be organized.

Stress relief.

In a way, I actually am organized. Those piles on the floor?

All the essentials are there: the pounds, the euros, the passport, the flight information, the camera, the chargers, something to read, something to write on and with, something to stitch.  When I do start to put stuff in the suitcase [and it had better be soon] first in will be the legendary ladybug quilt. Legendary for how many years it took to finish! The incentive to do so was the opportunity to hand deliver it to Little Brit-Boy who is already three [!!] and an expert on all things creepy crawly.

And now it's no longer Tuesday. To assuage my guilt at abandoning Pat for so long I went to work today. I left early, at her urging...."Go home and pack!"

Standing, wringing my hands doesn't seem to be working, so I've called on S-I-L for help.She needs a break from The Prince anyway! She'll be by as soon as he is fed and watered, and between us we'll wrestle those winter woollies into that suitcase!