11 Hours.

Eleven hours to go and I'm ripping my hair out. I'm exhausted, I'm nervous, I'm starting to get anxious about every damn little thing - ice, credit cards, turkey, traveler's cheques, apples, USB cables, socks.... I can't wait to just leave and be done with worrying about forgetting stuff.

I guess I wouldn't be so anxious if it weren't for my family sort of being ornery with me. My dad is adamant about every belonging I have being out of the house and in storage by tomorrow morning. And he hasn't really made any time to spend with me before I go, even though my mom and I tried to tie the whole family down for a meal. My mom has lots of things she wants to say, nothing bad, I'm sure, but still she's too scared to say them, so instead she's been calling me all day and just being silent on the other end of the line, which is unnerving and weird.

And then there's Brian. Frustrating Brian. Goddamn Brian. Stupid Brian who talks a mean streak about getting together, we gotta get together, I want to see you, baby, work can wait, it'll be there tomorrow and you won't be, I want to see you.... and then goes and paints a house all damn day and then goes out to dinner with his friend, with naught so much as a "call me when you get done with packing". It's 10:45 at night and he just got here.