Why are vacations so stressful?
So, I’ve spent the last week and a half somewhere between hysterical glee and anxiety attack. I’m ridiculously excited to go home; so much so that the travelling and being away from my house and The Little Red-Haired Girl isn’t making me tense (unlike any other time I travel). I can’t wait to see people and hang out and go places and take the T and eat good sushi and have The Bartender and Fanclub Girl make me drinks and all that good stuff.
At the same time, good lord, it’s stressful! Trying to figure out when I can spend time with whom, and who will be offended if they don’t get enough time, and who should get solo-time as opposed to group time… Apparently not everyone is taking ten days off like I am, and have lives and schedules that we have to plan around.
Then I have to get my school work together so I don’t come home on Saturday screwed and panicked. I also have to make sure that I don’t leave The Little Red Haired Girl swimming in my piles of junk, and that bills get paid before I go, and that the Tivo is programmed properly (very important).
Packing is another thing. I’m mostly packed, but I’ve already been spoiled by the weather down here, and have no idea how to pack for the cold. In addition to which I have to strategize about how much to bring given that I can do laundry while at my parents’, and how I can portion things out for the different phases of the trip (Boston, then New Haven, back to Boston, then New Haven, then Boston again before coming back to Nashville). Oy.
I think I will be exhausted after this vacation. I will also miss The Little Red-Haired Girl very much. I’m not sure we’ve ever been apart this long before 
