Do the laundry, bring the sweaters, how cold is it going to be there? Lessee… the kids are gonna be there for five days, they’ll need ten of everything how many is that? Is that even possible? Oh CRAP! Do they need the
ir own SHAMPOO? I’ll buy them EACH shampoo. Twice. And toothpaste. Toothbrushes. Do they have their own? BUY IT ANYWAY!
And I’ll pack for them, and then I’ll pack for me… how long am I going to be there? Where am I going? Can I wash stuff? Hotels let you wash stuff, right? HOLY CRAP, WHAT IF I CAN’T WASH STUFF?
And what will I wear? Will I wear jeans and T-shirts? What about night? WHAT ARE MY PEOPLE DOING AT NIGHT? Will my family eat out? Oh no. We never discussed that. What if we don’t eat out? What if I bring a fuckton of dresses and no one eats out? Oh holy shit… IT’S A WHOLE OTHER SEASON THERE!!!
And I’m there for how long? Lessee… coming home on Monday night. Oh Jesus– I REALLY have a 38 minute layover at eleven o’clock on Monday night? IN LAX? I LOATHE that airport! The one place on the planet you are guaranteed to NOT find a maxipad at eleven o’clock at night. Fuck. I’d better pack maxipads. Do we have any? When was the last time I needed them? CURSE YOU IRREGULAR MENSTRUAL CYCLE, I MIGHT NEED MAXIPADS!
*pant pant pant*
Okay. Okay. Leaving Big T here to fend for himself. He’s a big boy. He can eat. He knows how to cook. He can…YOU CAN NEVER HAVE TOO MANY FROZEN PEPPERONI PIZZAS!!! Okay. Calming down. Getting him his favorite vitamin waters, because Mommy is deserting her first born. And the dog. Oh no, THE DOG! He’ll be devastated. He’ll think I’m leaving him forever. He’ll think I’m deserting him. I can’t leave for ten minutes without him thinking I’m deserting him. Must make up for lost time right now– COME HERE YOU LITTLE BOOBY HAMSTER AND TAKE UP SEMI-PERMANENT RESIDENCE IN MY SHIRT! But don’t nibble. It’s rude.
Do the kids have enough to keep them busy? Have we found both iPods? Stuffed animals for everyone? OH DAMMIT! WHERE THE HELL IS DARTH PLUSH? Books. Do we have enough books, way there, way back, they both get occupation carry ons and their luggage carry ons and… @.@.
Okay. I’m freaking out. I’m freaking out. I need to work. I can work. I’ve got an edit in the box. Oh God. It’s the other half of Forever Promised. THIS BOOK WILL NEVER BE GOOD ENOUGH! *can’t breathe can’t breathe can’t breathe* Okay. It’s halfway done. I just need to finish the other 65K and write 15K to finish Kitsch before I leave in thirty-six hours. I can do that, right? Right? RIGHT? OH WHO THE FUCK AM I KIDDING! NOBODY CAN DO THAT WHILE THEY’RE DOING LAUNDRY PACKING AND MAKING PLANS FOR A MANI-PEDI AND A TRIP TO THE GYM!!! *pant* Okay. Chill. MUST chill. Chilling. Zen. There will be wi-fi. Mate understands that I need to work a little. He’ll let me… oh no.
It’s not just Mate and the kids. It’s my parents. My parents already think I’m a douchebag for checking my e-mail on my phone and texting my daughter. My father thinks I’m a whore because Locker Room sold well. My parents will never understand. I’ll have to work under the covers at night like some sort of porny-dealing pervert. I’M NOT READY FOR A NON-WORKING VACATION!
It’s okay…. Swear… it’s okay. All good. Zen. Family will leave, and I’ll have two days before the conference. Two days in my own hotel room. I can catch up then. Oh my God. My family is LEAVING WITHOUT ME? Without me? Leaving me behind in an alien city? No kids? No husband? *gets a little teary* It’ll be okay. *wibble* I’ll have friends. *quiver* I mean, some of the people at the DSP conference will be happy to see me, right? *brightens* Right? That’s true! I mean, if nothing else, I need to talk to people about RT… oh no… oh no… oh holy crap… because… I’m getting home from the DSP thing and I’ve got seven days home and then I’m leaving for Kansas City…
I’M LEAVING FOR KANSAS CITY ON APRIL 30TH!!!
Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck…
I need to box my shit so Mate can send it after he gets back from Chicago. Yeah. That’s the ticket. I can box it, and Mate can send it, and…
Some of it’s not getting here for another week. *sob* I’m going to have to leave shipping my shit go Mate. *whimper*
And then there’s going to be laundry.
And did I mention the 16K I need to write? Wait, what are the kids wearing? Can Big T walk the dog three times a day? OH MY GOD! WHAT’S FOR DINNER!
*sob* Please Goddess, let it all just happen. *whimper*
We interrupt this complete freak out to let you know Amy Lane has had dinner and done laundry, and that NO ONE is to send her fanfic of any sort until she gets Promises and Kitsch done. Please. Think of the children. No one can wear baby shampoo for five days straight.