I’ve packed. My bag is far smaller than the carry-on dimensions permit, and I’ve packed two skirts, four tops* and a dress and I’m wearing trousers, teeshirt and cardigan. I’m wearing one pair of sandals and taking another. And a swimsuit. And a hat. Underwear and toothbrush, obv. My control freak tendency is dealt with by taking pounds, euros, dollars and a credit card. I’ve loaded books onto my iPad and have just sternly removed the back-up book I could not resist packing. Pam says she has loads of books out there anyway. I’m taking disposable contact lenses so that I don’t have to bother with sterilising solution.
I’ve changed all the towels, changed the bed and washed the sheets, planted the butternut squash plants, noticed that a lily has come up uncomfortably close to a later-planted lavender and moved the latter, watered the tomatoes and done some weeding. I’ve checked the weather in Corfu, which is in the mid-twenties and set to go a bit higher.
I’ve accidentally used nearly all my data allowance for the month (didn’t notice I’d got stuff downloading on Spotify every time I turned it on) so have been eking out the final 20% for the last three weeks (my month starts on the 10th) and it should just last me for any more emails I need to write tonight. I might check emails a couple of times while I’m away, but odds are I’ll be offline nearly all the time. I am hoping for a change as well as a rest.
Honestly, I do take life too seriously, don’t I? I even plan minutely when I intend to wind down.
But now, that’s about it except for loading the washing machine every so often this afternoon. I think I might go and have a glass of wine, a couple of olives and a piece of cheese. I haven’t finished the leftover cheese from the party yet.
Toodle-pip, darlings. Take great care of yourselves while I’m gone or else I’ll worry about you.
*not ‘The’ Four Tops, that would be silly. And they wouldn’t fit.