Tonight I’ll take the red-eye to Philadelphia where I’ll see family over the holidays. Generally speaking, I don’t think of myself an an anxious person, but my morning – which has been one long and scattered wander around my apartment fidgeting with things and jumping from task to task – would suggest otherwise. Nervous energy. Monkey mind.
I’ve flown before. I’ve traveled and packed before. I’ve cleaned and closed my place up for a week while I was away before. I’ve made to-do lists and gotten gifts and done all of these things before. Yet, here I am, unable to focus on any one thing, pacing and puttering. It’s not terribly productive. It’s a little annoying – mildly humorous.
I’ll be in the middle of doing some online browsing for last minute gifts when I’ll get up to get a cup of coffee, pour the coffee, put away the dishes that are on the drying rack, walk into the bedroom to fold some clothing (but not all of the clothing) and put a few more things (but not all of the things) in the suitcase (leaving the poured coffee on the counter), look at that text from Hertz and decide to check in for my rental car, but then remember I had poured some coffee and should probably eat lunch (browser tab still open but shopping abandoned). Everything is partially done, partially left for later.
At least three or four times, I’ve walked past the bathroom and thought, I should pack my toothbrush, but wait, I want to brush my teeth after lunch. I’ll stand in front of the hooks by the door where my hoodies hang, contemplating how many to bring, yet pretty sure I already packed too much clothing and none of the right things for the frigid temperatures of Pennsylvania. Yes, I’ve become a California softy. I’ve ditched most of my winter attire, but also gotten used to always carrying around extra clothing. I live my life in hoodies and flannels. How many should I bring with me to Pennsylvania?
On and off, I kept thinking I should wrap that one present that’s sitting on top of a box in my living room unwrapped. But I need to go out and get one or two more things that will also need to be wrapped. But with laundry in the dryer and that lunch and coffee thing that I’m doing, I can’t go out until a little later. The presents and the wrapping are the red and irritated pimple on my to-do list – visible and not going away.
Mentally, I keep thinking I’m forgetting something. As such, every time I’ve left the apartment to check on the laundry or swap it out, I’m checking my pocket three or four times to make sure I have my keys.
On top of it all, or perhaps because of it all, my stomach’s a little upset.
This is when I really just want to get to the airport. At that point, everything will be in motion and mostly beyond my control. I won’t be able to flit about or try to get one more thing done. I’ll mostly let go and chill. I’ll scroll social media, and read, and listen to music, and people watch, and check my ticket a half-dozen times to make sure I’m at the right gate and what boarding group I’m in. I know this stuff, but, like my keys, I’ll check anyway.
It’s 1pm. I have a little over five hours to go before I call for a ride. I told my bartender friend that I’d swing by today before I leave. His brother is in town and doing a Sunday jazz session at the bar. I don’t know what, when, or where I’ll have dinner. I should probably get out and get those gifts, come back and take the compost out, finish packing, finish putting the laundry away, wrap, cross things off the list, and make sure I have my keys before I go.