Bad Case of the Nerves

Can't sleep.  It's 3:38am - I have been awake for 52 minutes.  My stomach hurts.  I'm thirsty.

Methinks I have a bad case of the nerves.

Don't get me wrong, I want to go to London.  I'm thrilled I'm going to London.  I can't wait to get on that plane later today and go to London.

But it's all hitting me rather suddenly (it snuck up on me on Monday night) that I'm not just going - I'm actually leaving.  And that's rough.

I had my massage yesterday at Elizabeth Arden.  It was blissful.  It was so relaxing, in fact, that I cried.  Right there on the table.  The poor masseuse!  I tried to explain to her that I was moving away from my family and friends - her response was to encourage me inhale more lavender.  It did calm me down, I guess!

My last night in town was pretty perfect - except for the crying.  I had dinner with my babysitting family and Gen and Kate, two very good friends who are also, conveniently, the next-door neighbors of the babysitting family.  When I said goodbye at the end of the night, I welled up.  I managed to quell the tears pretty quicky, though no one besides me seemed embarrassed.  (The babysitting family is coming to London in July, so it was only an au revoir for them, but Gen and Kate I will miss terribly.  Kate - you're the one who made me cry!)  Then I met up with a handful of my close girlfriends from high school at a bar and had a blast learning to play poker.  Four of us ended up closing out the night by drinking wine on my friend's stoop.  It was ideal.  I managed not to cry when we all said goodbye - until.  Oh, until.  Nikki, one of my very bests, gave me a ride back to my car.  We had a pretty emotional farewell, but I did not cry.  I did not cry!  I didn't cry until I got into my car and watched her drive off down the street.  Then I put my head down on the steering wheel and sobbed.

I was a mess.  If a cop had pulled me over for distracted driving (which he would have had every right to do) he would have taken one look at my tear-stained face and assumed the worst.  It was a disaster.

But I made it home and crawled into bed - where a few tears may have leaked out onto my pillow - and tried to sleep.  Turns out I am unsuccessful at sleep tonight.  I need to sleep!  Although I suppose if I'm tired when I get on the plane in 14.5 hours I'll be more likely to sleep the whole way across the Atlantic, which would be a good thing for my sanity.  Hm, maybe I should try to stay up...