I love to be organized. But when it comes to trip planning, Hubby is even more organized than I am. He started reading and researching our South America trip last summer. Talking to friends who have travelled there, looking at their itineraries, deciding what countries and what places we might visit in those countries. I was too busy planning, and then attending, my junior high reunion in September. And planning my trip to New York, and then going on that trip, with my friend Elizabeth. But I promised that when I came home from New York, at the end of October, I would focus on our South America trip. And I did. And we’ve both been immersed in reading, planning, organizing our itinerary, booking, reorganizing the itinerary, rebooking… yadda yadda… ever since. We finished all this in time to drive home to New Brunswick for Christmas. And since the New Year, we’ve been making lists, and shopping, and planning what to pack. But, you already know that if you read this blog regularly. So everything is pretty much done, now. Flight confirmations, car rental vouchers, hotel confirmations, shuttle transfers… all printed and ready to go. The long list has been whittled down to a short list. And we’ve still a bit over a week before we leave.
Soooooo. Now. Here we sit. Twiddling our thumbs. You see that’s the problem with being organized, folks. What to do, now? How do we occupy ourselves in the time between getting everything done… and finally leaving on our big trip?
Still winter here: I may be packing tank tops, but I wore my down coat to go shopping.
It’s easier for me. I still had a few last minute things on my shopping list. Like a new zippered, light jacket. One that will feel like a sweater, be good for hiking, and still look reasonably smart in the city over my black pants. My Lululemon jacket is showing its age. And in my search for a replacement this week, I discovered how many crappy, cheaply made, easily wrinkled, too short, too heavy, too something jackets there are out there. But I eventually found one at The Bay, and since they had to order it in my size, I can’t show it to you here. Hopefully it will be delivered before we leave.
Then because I could put it off no longer, I shopped for a new sports bra, an item that’s been on my mental list for months. And on the recommendation of my hairdresser, Carmen, I tried that haven of lace and pursed-lipped models, pink wallpaper and gilt… Victoria’s Secret. I’d never darkened the door of Victoria’s Secret before. I don’t do lace. It makes me itch. But Carmen assured me that she buys her sports bras there. And since Carmen runs and cycles and does triathlons… she knows her sports apparel. Okay. I’d give it a try.
|The changing room at Victoria’s Secret. Feels a bit… boudoir-ish? Bordello-ish?
The first two styles I tried did not give me confidence. One had so many straps I couldn’t get it on… and then even more interestingly… couldn’t get it off. Ha. Not sure what the helpful salesgirl made of the smothered guffaw, followed by the whispered profanity, emanating from my cubicle. Phew. That was close. I was afraid I was going to have to call her to extricate me. Then I tried the one below. Ha. Another guffaw. Seriously that molded bra was almost lifelike. It could have left of its own accord… it didn’t need me to animate it. Finally, the lovely Sarah appeared with a third style. Comfy, easy to slip on and off. No lace. Not so complicated as the first… nor so… ah… let’s just say… more me than the second. I was pleasantly surprised by the very reasonable price. So I bought two. One purple, and one black. And I had a lovely chat with the cashier who I realized I taught several years ago. And so my Victoria’s Secret experience turned into a very pleasant experience… except for the almost getting trapped in the first bra part. And it did take my mind off the waiting to leave, twiddling thumbs, thing.
So besides thumb twiddling, and shopping, Hubby and I are binge watching season three of Shetland. We love that series. And we’re doing a lot of reading. Nothing heavy, as you can see. I’m currently reading The Swans of Fifth Avenue, thanks to Dottoressa for the recommendation. I’m enjoying the novel, and researching the real lives of the characters at the same time, calling up pictures of Babe Paley, and Pamela Churchill, and Slim Keith et al on my i-pad. My goodness, they were an intertwined bunch weren’t they? Slim Keith’s second husband, Leland Hayward, divorced her to become the second husband of Pamela Churchill, who had an affair with Gianni Agnelli, who eventually married Marella Agnelli, the youngest “swan” in the novel. And someone’s daughter, in the bunch even married her own step-brother. Now, have you got all of that?
|A lot of light reading helps with the waiting.
And this week, I have a final physiotherapy appointment. And a therapeutic massage just before we leave for Buenos Aires. My back was giving me grief over Christmas, so I’ve been in therapy since early January. And then there’s the pedicure appointment, and a last hair appointment for what I always call the “trip cut.” Very short and highlighted to avoid the roots issue as long as possible. And then the trial packing, to see what will fit where. And probably some re-jigging of the packing list. And the laundry, and ironing, and then the actual packing.
And in the meantime, since I will be doing all of the above, and Hubby none, he’ll be skiing his butt off so he doesn’t go crazy with anticipation. Or drive me crazy. You see, we both remember the first big trip we took, to Australia in 2003. I was still working so Hubby did all of the planning, and then, when my leave of absence started, I had one week and tons to do before we left. And Hubby didn’t. And on the day of our flight, he was packed and dressed so early, he called the friend who was taking us to the airport to come two hours earlier than planned… to put him out of his misery. The thinking being that we might as well be twiddling our thumbs at the airport as at home.
Ha. Good thing I was ready too, or he might have gone without me.
You see, that’s the problem with being organized. Everything is done. The lists are checked off. And all that’s left is the waiting. And the thumb twiddling. And the waiting.
Life is tough, eh?
How about you, my friends? How do you pass the time before a much anticipated event, like a big trip? Any suggestions for Hubby to avoid his driving his lovely wife up the wall? Sedatives, maybe?