A ludicrous last 10, and I'm off
/Friends, I haven't the slightest idea what I packed except I know I have three purses and three pairs of shoes. I think I packed all my make-up. I might have more than one pair of pants. Last night was the pits; it was as if we had a newborn except that we don't. I was up from 2:45 -3:45 with Jack wailing about not yet having Quidditch robes: would amazon run out before Halloween? what would we then do? I spent the entire conversation wondering if he was serious, in some sort of bizarre dream or a combo of those plus sleep-deprived nuts. At one point I fell asleep and he promptly elbowed me in the eye. Like right into the socket. I stumbled back to bed and T started snoring. Steam was starting to burst from my ears. Then there was some issue with Oliver, and then Nutmeg came in and started rustling in the coat hanger mound that is -my fault- still on the floor from the closet clean and then eating Tom. By 6:10am, everyone, including the apparating cat, was back in our bed. Little boy hands were everywhere, and I finally escaped to Ol's bed before huffing downstairs to find we were out of coffee. Needless to say, I actually don't give a rat's arse what's in my bag. Yesterday's sadness about leaving has been 100% replaced by glee about getting out of dodge for 48 hours. Good god people.
More from the relative balm that will be the airport. What??!!
