8 March 2011

8 03 2011

We’re en route and ad we roll along I-75 I can’t help this gnawing feeling that I’ve forgotten something of significance.  I keep telling myself that with the countless lists, booklets, guides and such, that there is no feasible way anything has been forgotten, and yet quell the panic I cannot.  Stealing a line from Marcille – it’ll keep me alert.

For the first disruption to my carefully planned out itinerary, at 9:45 am today I received an email from the Scotch Corner hotel to say that due to the road construction, the hotel will be inaccessible the 10th.  Would I like a refund?  My replies were hasty, one after another, but basically stated “I’ve already paid, you figure something out!!”

They replied an our later to say they’ve booked an equivalent stay at another hotel on the southbound side of the M1 in Skeeby.  And they apologized.  So either we’ll get a dive as a laugh at my expense or a decent place because they’re truly sympathetic.  It’s only one night, so here’s hoping.

And while picking up the car for the drive to Miami, the sales clerk warned Glenn of the rampant thieves in England.  No matter that for weeks now I’ve warned of muggings and pick pocketers; it’s as though I’ve only spoken to myself for several nights.  If I have to recount the luggage allowances or duties or flights again, I think I’ll have not even one brown strand of hair left!

The past two weeks have proven to test the limits of my stress management skills.  Not entirely trusting of technology, I wrote out all nine days of driving directions by hand.  The GPS, Billy, will likely not fail, but I can’t help but fret.  Then the new jeans I had purchased the girls for this trip they’d already worn out – I should say Alannah wore hers out.  Glenn tried to calm me, saying Just tell me what to do or buy to remove your stress.  I laughed.  He’s a great man but I don’t know if he’ll ever understand or really know how much I fret each minute of each day.  The idea of being stress free is so far-fetched it’s laughable.

We’re on the long, impossibly endless, drive along Alligator Alley now, and I’m still worrying…should I have weighed the suitcases once more, did I leave enough food for the birds with Betty, did I pack my flat iron, will my pain-killers make it through Customs, I’m carrying $2494 in cash and Glenn has $1650 – will we get robbed.  Ugh, the worries.



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