The Last Forty-Eight Hours

They say that the first 48 hours are the most important part of an investigation. When one is preparing to leave the country, however, often it's the reverse. The last 48 hours in one location are often a flurry of packing, ticket double checking, making sure all electronics are off and unplugged, catching up on last minute email and generally running around like a chicken with her head cut off.

The first forty eight are usually spent sleeping, at least when I travel. I know that They also say that when suffering from jet lag it's better to stay up and then go to bed at the same time as everyone else in the area where you're staying, but I doubt They go on marathon transatlantic flights that require one to be up for 56 hours straight very often.

This time (thankfully) we got a slightly better deal on our plane tickets. A short jaunt from Columbus to JFK, then a simple flight to Rome, and another short hop to Florence. None of the Columbus-Boston-Amsterdam-Edinburgh-London-Milan-Florence crap we did last time. Yes, there was a week of fabulous vacation thrown in the middle of that, but it was still hell on wheels. Or wings, whatever.

99.9% of my stuff has been removed from the house (I did forget a few things, like my shampoo, which I'll pick up tomorrow). My things are mostly packed, it's just a matter of distributing the weight so that I don't get dinged on check in. Once I print out my bording pass email thing for the Columbus/JFK flight, and transfer what's in my current purse to the one I'm taking, I'll be dandy.

Hermes was dropped off on Friday night. I was really worried that no one would take him, but finally got a response to a plea I posted on Ravelry last week. My furry little man seems pretty happy there, even though I feel terribly guilty about leaving him for so long (there were tears shed. Many, many tears. I'm pretty sure Alice thought I'd lost it).

I'm going to see if I can downsize my bags any further.