Leaving on a Jet Plane

Well, I’m off.  Don’t forget to empty the dishwasher, it’s clean, and tomorrow is trash day.  I’ll be back on Thursday.

I’m not fond of leaving home.  In fact, you could say I’m terrified of it and you wouldn’t be exaggerating. Back ten years ago when I started this job, I loved to travel, but now I am sick of it.  Maybe it is because, the older I get, the more aware I am of my own mortality.

A list of the things my head is full of as I wait for the taxi:

• When is the last time the taxi driver had his breaks checked?
• What if a flock of Canadian geese appear out of nowhere during take off?
• What if a large man sits next to me on the plane. What if he has no concept of personal space and didn’t use deodorant this morning?
• What if the pilot is new and has never landed a plane full of passengers before and he gets all panicky at the last moment and freaks out and flips the plane over on the runway?
• Will the hotel pillows smell bad?

Oh I know, I am being ridiculous.  Luckily, I have a very logical side to my mind which is constantly reassuring the insane, imaginative side.  Don’t worry – you’ve done this a million times, it will all be fine. You’ll be home in no time.

Yeah well, the taxi will be here in a moment, and my stomach is in knots.  Hard to hear the logical voice when the panicked voice is screaming so loud.