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The trip…

July 16, 2007

(Part I)

Finally, everything was packed and it was only 11:33 p.m. I was going to enjoy a solid 5 1/2 hours of sleep, give or take the requisite 10 minutes of snooze. Did I say everything was packed? Drifting off I drowsily remembered that the “everything” excluded all that I would be using in the morning plus the suitcase locks, my sunglasses, the magnifying mirror, and the….

Music faint in my ears, husband rolls over and hugs me. I am cozy and ever so sleepy. Intruding, nagging thoughts that something is supposed to be done this morning…

AAAAAH! I jump awake but can’t focus. My eyelids are stuck to my contacts. “What time is it? What time is it?” I demand of my husband. “It’s 6:09.” He replies.

“WHAT?! I have to be there at 6:45 and still have to shower, wash and dry my hair, finish packing, drink some coffee!”

“That’s why I’m waking you up now.”

But I didn’t hear him, I was in the shower, halfway through washing my hair. (Cue music to Mission Impossible)

Twenty-seven, that’s 27, or 2-7, minutes later, in the car with husband making tracks for the airport shuttle van. We arrived at 6:46, only one minute past the intended time but there was still a backseat available into which I plopped my non-caffeinated self. Atlanta Hartsfield has a Starbucks I kept telling myself.

But all the way there I remembered the part of everything that had not been packed.

To be continued…

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The trip…

July 16, 2007

(Part I)

Finally, everything was packed and it was only 11:33 p.m. I was going to enjoy a solid 5 1/2 hours of sleep, give or take the requisite 10 minutes of snooze. Did I say everything was packed? Drifting off I drowsily remembered that the “everything” excluded all that I would be using in the morning plus the suitcase locks, my sunglasses, the magnifying mirror, and the….

Music faint in my ears, husband rolls over and hugs me. I am cozy and ever so sleepy. Intruding, nagging thoughts that something is supposed to be done this morning…

AAAAAH! I jump awake but can’t focus. My eyelids are stuck to my contacts. “What time is it? What time is it?” I demand of my husband. “It’s 6:09.” He replies.

“WHAT?! I have to be there at 6:45 and still have to shower, wash and dry my hair, finish packing, drink some coffee!”

“That’s why I’m waking you up now.”

But I didn’t hear him, I was in the shower, halfway through washing my hair. (Cue music to Mission Impossible)

Twenty-seven, that’s 27, or 2-7, minutes later, in the car with husband making tracks for the airport shuttle van. We arrived at 6:46, only one minute past the intended time but there was still a backseat available into which I plopped my non-caffeinated self. Atlanta Hartsfield has a Starbucks I kept telling myself.

But all the way there I remembered the part of everything that had not been packed.

To be continued…

2 Comments leave one →
  1. July 16, 2007 1:12 pm

    Oh, you can’t leave us hanging!

  2. mike gingrich permalink
    July 17, 2007 2:36 pm

    yawn…

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