The Time Until

     Sitting in my humid room, I could feel my pores sweating from my weekly pack mule-style haul to the laundromat. Glancing out the window, I noticed the sun glowing burt orange as it cut through dissipating storm clouds, its rays dancing on my bedroom wall. It was a rare moment of serenity amidst the hamster wheel of recent weeks. Gazing, I took a few more sips of water before peeling my thighs off my pleather office chair. There were just a few more things to do.

     "Do I have enough socks?"

     "Am I really bringing four pairs of shoes?"

     "They'll have a blow dryer, right?"

     "These travel bottles are so cute."

     While preparations can be wearing, they also offer a steering wheel for my anxiety, a checkbox to mark. And for me, the satisfaction of crossing things off a list is comparable only to multi-hour massages or romantic escapades in Bora Bora (I would imagine).

     After I fetched my load out of the dryer and sorted its contents, I stared victoriously at my neatly packed Samsonite.

     (The hard cases are much more durable and come with a TSA-approved zipper lock, in case you were wondering.)

     I pondered what was left to take care of, but could think of little more than remembering to pack my favorite comb in the morning. Taking a deep breath, I allowed myself to arrive:

     There is nothing more to do. Just let it all happen.