I am officialy procrastinating. I have been all day. I really, really need to be doing laundry and packing for the trip tomorrow, not to mention making the bed, tidying up the kitchen and living room, and making the house look ok enough overall for us to not have to come home to a house that depresses us on the flipside of the trip.
I have made some progress. I got us checked in for our flights online. That was actually a battle, since I found out that for the first, and longest leg of our trip tomorrow, we were in three completely different rows that weren’t even remotely close to one another. Travelling with a two-year old and not doing so together? Um… I don’t think so. So I went to the airline’s website and looked for a number, spent 25 minutes just trying to talk to a freaking real person (I ended up calling about 5 times), and finally got to talk to an agent. Luckily, she was fantastic and helpful and friendly and fixed us right up. We’ll be in the ‘potty seats’ again, but at least we’ll be sitting there all cramped up together.
I have Little Miss’s bag mostly packed. And I finally *just* put the laundry in the washer.
I am craving a sugary-snack of any kind in the very worst kind of way. I’m looking forward to some lee-way on our little Lenten Sacrifice in Illinois, but also trying to tell myself we should not go wild. Husband has talked me out of packing the candies that have been taunting me–the one’s I bought right before Lent thinking I wasn’t going to be giving up desserts–in our luggage to eat while we’re there. The beautiful mini Kit-Kats and Cadbury Egg will have to wait until Easter…..
But I am procrastinating. Kind of wishing I could run away instead of doing what I need to. Alas, I guess I cannot. Some days, I really wish I was the kind of person who could.