We're traveling for Christmas. We'll be embarking on those travels...sometime.
The Mr is at work laboring feverishly (I'm sure) to get things done so we can leave.
I'm here, teetering between various things.
Things like working busily and knowing I've got everything in hand and sitting on the sofa staring dejectedly into space as my to do list mocks me from it's perch on the crowded kitchen counter.
Or relief that I've got this extra time at home cut with the itch to get out on the road.
I've got a package coming one of these days. I finally decided on a pair of boots but it seems I decided a day too late. UPS' tracking site tells me my boots, as of 4:08 this morning, were in Ft. Worth. Even after that report I held onto hope that they'd make it here today.
A few hours ago the garbage truck, in combination with a drop in visitor had me convinced I was receiving a Christmas miracle.
Even after the sting of that disappointment I dared wish, but just now as I was cleaning out Dusty Miller in preparation for the eventual drive, the UPS truck came.
Sped by my house without even slowing down. Do you think that driver knew he was crushing the spirit of hope just then?
So here I am, preparing for a trip that we will at some point leave on, wishing for delivery miracles and despairing that my boots and I will be as ships in the night.