Thursday, 2 June 2011

"All (Amazing) Things Must Come To An End"

Old habits die hard...(sitting cross-legged pigging out on mango)
It does bear questioning...what on earth am I doing up at 4:07am, feeling strung out and wired...?

I've neither 'latte'ed' (yes people it's a verb...) myself into caffeine toxicity, nor have I just come back from slouching around some Toronto hotspot celebrating the recent heatwave and saying goodbye to my temporary city this past month.

Rather, I've spent a lovely evening sipping wine (thankfully not by myself...that would be worrisome) and socialising, followed by hours of what I like to think of as "Luggage Tetris".  

After nearly a year and a half carting these selfsame clothes and possessions around, I don't mind saying that I'm damn near sick of it - and sick of the sight of all our stuff.  Urghh...I know each piece intimately, having been the sole 'packer' for our travels (by choice I might add - there is NO way i'd trust the husband to do it - and no, I'm not so much a control freak as I am a 'Holiday Houdini' - managing to fit way more into a given space than physics should allow.  But I digress...

I'm currently staring at a slooooowly receding pile of STUFF on the bed, as I pseudo frantically cram bits into bags (the Second Cup coffee shop doesn't open for three hours after all), sitting on suitcases and wiggling about, trying to cram just one last thing into already heaving carry-ons...I tell you, it's (almost) enough to make one take up Monasticism.  Almost. 

Anyway, there are two reasons I'm not in bed right now:

1.  I am trying something new.  I'm going to see what it feels like to spend my last day here NOT freaking out and spending the whole day panic packing.  If this necessitates an all-nighter then so be it.  Nothing a few triple shot lattes can't fix in the A.M. right?  (Besides, it has to be pointed out that the husband and I have this flying ritual which we rarely deviate from, which makes being well rested and in a good mood pretty pointless.  

We argue about how early we have to get to the airport (he's one of those types who like to be there before the check-in desk opens, whereas I favour sliding in at the last moment, get teary-eyed with goodbyes, then scarper through security sniffling and trying to make it seem like my grossly overweight carry on isn't cutting through my shoulder.

The husband can be counted on to shoot rude looks my way as we're checking in, muttering inanities about our baggage and how we have so much STUFF and what the hell is in there anyway??  It never fails to piss me off - especially as I've spent hours painstakingly arranging that stuff.  

(Strangely, once we're on the plane and seated comfortably, we are more likely than not to be found cuddled up, studiously ignoring our offspring and trying to pretend that there is nothing wrong with our four year old standing on his seat and yelling out his drink requests.

2.  Anyway, the other reason that I'm not in bed yet (and here I'd now like to point out that it's now 4:10am) is that I could hardly let the chance go by to blog about how momentous tomorrow is.  It's officially THE LAST DAY of our YEAR (plus four months) AWAY!!

I can't believe it.  It feels surreal to be honest.  Am I excited?  You bet.  Am I also anxious?  Totally.

I can't wait to land on British soil (I shan't kiss it but I may just celebrate with an M&S Cheese and Celery sandwich) and sleep in MY OWN BED.  Ahhhh...bliss.

This euphoria will be short lived I reckon (a few months tops?) but for now I'm going to revel in the excitement of at last completing our long, long journey...and enjoying the novelty of seeing our much missed friends, having picnics in the park, and resuming my subscription to Elle...

At least I won't have to pack anymore bloody suitcases.
Doing my best 'Indie girl' impression at an Echo and the Bunnymen concert in Toronto

Captain Dumps at Canada's Wonderland...
Later, the little man just scrapes through on the height restriction and rides the roller coaster with me!
My Little Men...(wonder how much of this big trip they'll remember?)

1 comment:

  1. Wow, what a year you've had.
    I remember coming back from 4 months travelling (and this was pre-kids) and being SO glad to stop living out of a suitcase. Cannot imagine after a year.
    I bet your boys will remember it. It's things like this you do remember, not so much the day to day.


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