I suppose, it is good that I won't need a series rabies shots and facial reconstruction 48 hours before fleeing the country.
Yes, friends, I am now fleeing the country. What was once a trip has become a fear-driven exodus.
While I am gone, I've arranged for someone to sage the house, as well as my neighbors homes. I pray we all return from our Spring Breaks rested, cultured and exorcised of all demons.
But, before I run, there are several things I must do. Here's my to-do for fleeing the country:
1. Learn how to care for my diabetic dog.
Yes, friends, the good news is that Henry does not seem to be dying; however he is an elderly diabetic dog. Tomorrow, I will learn how to administer insulin, receive a book about our old newly diabetic dog and I suppose go pick some medical needles somewhere. Then, Friday evening, I will leave him with my poor husband, who will be in charge of two children, my mother, the cat, the diabetic dog and Spring Break adventures in the wilds of Pennsylvania.
2. Drop off the Girl Scout cookie money.
Friends, I have an envelope of Girl Scout cookie money that has been sitting on my desk since early March. It sits there, not collecting interest, but collecting dust. My co-leader often sends me text messages from the back of rooms, casually asking for the money. I never have it (because it is on the desk). Tomorrow is the day, friends, I must drop it off because the co-leaders know where I live and how to start a fire and I think there is a badge for "Shake-downs."
3. Drive Around with Jumper Cables.
Today, friends, shortly after I shared a picture of my most favorite pencil, the universe retaliated. I went to get my pre-flee manicure and pedicure and emerged to a dead car battery. At first, I thought the car was possessed because it was flashing "KEY MALFUNCTION" and the heated seats refused to turn off. But, it was really just tiring, desperately to take a last breath before expiring.
Luckily, my husband, who had some spare time after a dental appointment for a missing filling, was able to jump my car. He placed the jumper cables in my trunk for good measure--because let's face it, I am not going anywhere tomorrow without complete chaos ensuing.
4. Go to Therapy
While I have canceled on my board-certified mental health counselor several times, I would never, ever cancel on my real therapist Sam. Sam not only does my roots and refreshes my pink, but also listens to all my problems, compliments my shoes, reaffirms that everyone is insane and laughs with me at all calamities and catastrophes. She is also Italian and I think has the ability to lift curses.
5. Celebrate a Holiday
I will be long gone in France on Easter; but holidays and traditions are very, very important around here. I've worked so hard to make every holiday traditional and personalized and filled with magic that now I cannot slack, lest everyone end up in a panicked state. So between now and flight time, there will hayrides to the Easter bunny and ham and coconut cake and Easter egg hunts. We will do it all, on the wrong days (so everyone will complain).
6. Pack my Capsule Wardrobe
While I've been working on my French Capsule Wardrobe for months, now is the time to simply shove all my shit in an oversized suitcase, accept it will be over the weight limit, endure the disdain of our traveling companions (including Madame Webb) and understand I will arrive in France with clothing I despise. The capsule wardrobe I need to focus on, friends, are my pill capsules. I need to make sure to pack all the "Stress Away," "Instant Calm," "Say Buh-Bye to Bad Thoughts," Vitamin B, C, D, Magnesium Thoreate, Antacid, Motrin, Emergen-C, Blood Pressure meds, water pills and Benadryl I can fit in my carry-on.
Otherwise, I might be exiled from France before I even had a proper chance to my fleeing.