No, I mean it. This is big. Guess.
(No, Mom, I’m not pregnant.)
Okay, fine. I’ll tell you.
ANDY AND I ARE LEAVING FOR EUROPE IN ONE WEEK.
Okay, sure, it’s technically 8 days away, not an exact week. So…an exact week from tomorrow. Geez, sorry, counting is hard.
I know, I know – London and Dublin are cities and Scotland is in fact an entire country. (“Wait, what?” asks Jessica Simpson with her bowl of Chicken of the Sea.) That’s the best part though – we’re actually going all over Scotland to Inverness and Loch Ness and the Isle of Skye
and to James Fraser’s castle and so on.
This is the part where I tell you I’m probably never coming home.
But honestly, what do I pack? The internet tells me that London will likely be in the mid 60s to low 70s, and both the Scottish Highlands and Dublin will be cooler, in the 50s or 60s. And did I also tell you that Andy and I have each agreed (read: he forced me) to only take one small carry-on bag per person? Soooo, that’s not a lot of space for clothes and shoes and my arsenal of beauty and hair products. I’m thinking I’ll bring one pair of cute purple tennis shoes, one pair of comfy flats, two pairs of jeans, four-ish tank tops, which will be layered under two or three cardigans, one heavier weight fleece zip-up jacket, one pair of yoga pants (for the day we hike around the Isle of Skye) and one lightweight trench coat/rain jacket that I got from the sale rack at Target three years ago and have loved like a human child ever since. And yeah, bras and underwear and stuff – don’t make this weird. But is that enough? Have I prepared enough? Will I have to walk naked through the streets of Europe? Do they even allow that there? I mean, two weeks is a long time to be away from home with only two pairs of jeans – am I going to make it?!
Hmmmm, that was strange; I just had a vision. It was of my dad, telling me not to announce the fact that our house will be empty and vacant on the internet for breakers-inners everywhere to read.
Nobody break into my house while I’m gone, k? K great thanks you’re the best.
Aaaaaaand that’s Friday.
—The Wife in Training