Something weird happens to me before I go on vacation. I start nesting.
Whether the trip will be three days long or a month, as the time to pack the suitcases draws nearer, I decide that all manner of weird, unimportant things MUST be done before I leave. It is kind of like your husband deciding to power wash the driveway when you have guests coming for dinner and need help in the kitchen.
One friend said I was just putting off packing as I faced the daunting task of figuring out what I needed to take on a 31-day trip that will cover 12,000 miles, eight time zones and move me from fall in the U.S. to spring in Australia.
That’s not true, because I don’t mind packing at all. As for packing for a mega-trip, well, I only have so many clothes, so they pretty much all go in the suitcase.
I don’t have any problem explaining why I like to clear the decks on the business front before I leave. I like to leave things in order for those who depend on me to deliver certain things on time, and I like to have as little work as possible to do while I’m gone.
The nesting, however, is a mystery. I have no idea why, with a To-Do list that kept getting longer even as I marked things off, I decided that the Keurig coffee maker had to be completely cleaned and “descaled,” a 30 minute process. I can’t explain why I decided that all the files on my computer had to have a thorough vetting – renaming some, moving some to other folders, deleting others –or why I decided to clear out my email, or why, at 2 a.m. three days before lift-off, I started putting together a photo book that I want to give a friend for Christmas!
Meanwhile, the trip-related list kept growing. Eventually full panic set in, and I abandoned the idea that it was time to go through all my CDs and transfer them to my computer. I gave up trying to find a new doorbell that was easy to install.
I do have a couple of pre-flight rituals. I always stay up late the night before, hoping it will help me sleep on the plane. I always text my children and tell them I love them before we take off, just in case.
But if something does go awry, and we don’t make it back home, is it really going to matter that I didn’t buy that new pillow for the sham that goes on the guest room bed? Will friends and relatives truly be disappointed that I haven’t yet replaced the bar stool that broke on the screened-in porch?
In spite of my misguided good intentions, I packed the clothes, and the trip has begun. The nest looks pretty much like it did a month ago.
Now that all those important chores are out-of-sight, I think a bird’s eye view from vacationland will do quite a bit to ease the guilt.
Look for more about our great adventure in future Kitchen Table Talk columns.
