Worlds Collide

Christmas has subsided and I can now sleep without waking up at 3 a.m. to wonder if I have enough eggs for the annual holiday omelet, or if Handsome Son already has a cargo liner for the back of his car (He did. Thank you Amazon returns).

          Soon I’ll be leaving the Land of Perpetual Carbs and Chocolate and heading to the scary South, where there are no forgiving sweaters and bulky sweatshirts. Today, for the first time in months I paint my toenails again; maybe a bright enough color will draw the eye away from cookie-induced lumpiness.

          I’m now entering the zone of tiny details – did I pack the charging cords, replace the furnace filter, reroute the magazines, bring a night light for the hotel room, gather all meds?

We always travel on New Year’s Day, since we figure most of the world will be lounging in bed while we’re racing to put the northern corridor traffic behind us. Plus, since we have to get up early, this eliminates what used to be my Dec 31st FOMO (Fear of Missing Out), that nagging feeling of failure because I’m not out whooping it up with 300 of my best friends, welcoming in the new year.

Now I’m off to clean the fridge and create a lunch out of leftovers.