It Has Begun

I had my first bone-rattling pre-travel anxiety dream last night.

Some nerdy guy in his forties was in a motel room near mine, packing for our rafting trip that was to leave that morning. He was rolling up a big scrolling paper that looked sort of like the Torah. It’s homework Mom wants me to do while I’m gone. Look.

I unfurled the infinite list of word problems, none of which made any sense. Go on. Try one, he urged.

I unrolled the list further. How about this one? I asked, pointing. No, not that. The words in the middle are too big. Pick another.

Every time I made another choice he told me it was wrong, and got increasingly frustrated with me: I told you. You can’t do that kind of problem.

Unbeknownst to me, the rest of our rafting group had gathered half a mile downhill for a sumptuous breakfast. Their bags were fully packed and rafting supplies had been doled out by the crew. By the time I arrived the food was almost gone. I put the few remaining scrawny pancakes on my plate. They turned out to be chocolate chip cookies, but I lost my plate before I could eat any.

The bus rolled in. I hadn’t packed. I ran back up the hill to my motel room to try to organize. The scene was a lot worse than this:

I started jamming random things in my bag: two sleeping bags, two pairs of quick-drying travel underwear, two sleeping pads, a handful of pills from unmarked bottles. I knew I was out of control and that I would never get everything into my duffel in time, and that whatever was in there would be all the wrong stuff. Trekking poles instead of a bathing suit.

Someone walked by my room and watched me at work for a second before asking Are you going on that river rafting trip, because your bus just left.

I woke up just as I was trying in panic to negotiate a solution with the woman at the rafting office, a vocal Sarah Palin supporter.

I began: I know it’s my fault, but…

Yes, it is your fault, she confirmed.

Back to reality, where I think Stella has started to suspect I’m leaving her.

I am going to miss her terribly the next seven weeks. I take her to be dogsat in four days.

P.S. Richard suggested I use bigger thumbnails in this blog so I’ve been inching (actually, pixeling) them ever bigger in the last few posts. What do you think of this size?