Hopping the Pond

This Saturday my husband and I leave for 10 days in Europe. Part business, mostly pleasure, we’ll be in Paris for a few days and then London for almost a week. We’re staying at great hotels recommended by avid travelers, and have friends in London who are going to show us around. I’ll be strolling the foggy streets of London Town, finally putting to perfect use my Burberry raincoat. It sounds wonderful, right? So why don’t I want to go?

I get this feeling before every trip. I can’t call it intuition, because nothing bad ever happens. In fact, once I get where I’m going I always enjoy myself. (And Europe? I mean come on! Who wouldn’t want to go?) But before I go I’m filled with this tremendous sense of hesitancy. I simply don’t want to go. Anywhere.

I don’t feel like leaving home. Additionally, I don’t feel like preparing to leave. I can’t get psyched up to shift into the high gear necessary to cram in all the work and errands and dogcare coordinating … only to come home and play catchup with the work and errands and the dog damage.

(By the way, this is what Wilson does to our dining room chairs when we’re away too long. I vacuumed up the pile of wood chips under it. The chairs have become a sacrificial offering: he eats the chairs and spares the other pieces of furniture.)

I know from past experience that it’ll all get done. But my lackadaisical approach is cutting preparedness particularly close this trip. While my sister-in-law has been excitedly selecting her travel wardrobe for weeks, I’ve yet to look in my closet. I’ve yet to pull out my passport or peruse any travel guides. And as I write this, I’m supposed to be writing a brochure for a client. What is wrong with me?!