This time next week...

So I sit in front of the laptop, in a house virtually empty of furniture and belongings, to pen (metaphorically speaking) my latest epistle.  Essentially all the dice have been cast, all the decisions made and now we just need to tick off items on a list until we get on the plane.  This time next week we will be somewhere over the Atlantic on the first leg of the journey to a new home.  The better half has been fantastic in organising all the tedious details of packing up our life here.  I have been given tasks to do and, occasionally, I am allowed to use my initiative.  As the stress has built over the last week me, using my "initiative" has resulted in raised voices and strops on both our parts.  Thankfully we always manage to find the perspective in the situation.

Just ticking items on a list is very detached from the reality of moving to another country.  Every so often I have to stop and remind myself of the enormity of what we are actually doing.  The next moment I remember that we are not the first people to emigrate and everything we are doing has been done before.  My mind then usually takes a roller coaster ride and I realise; how will I cope without the wonderful people in my life in the UK; did I pack my black fleece; how are we going to reduce the weight of two of our suitcases (baggage allowance issues are a nightmare); what am I going to do for work when I get there; will we get strip searched at LA Airport because I have "that look" about me; did I have lunch today;  will this snow ever stop? ad infinitum

I then wonder if I have too much time on my hands to think about all these things and get back to the next item on the list, all the time day dreaming  - this time next week...