A twenty four bullet point list of stuff for my Mum, including emergency telephone numbers, how to programme the washing machine, food Olly and Alfie will eat, food they will not, refuse collection day, where the dog poop bags are kept....
A tense stand off between me and Sam over Uni packing. The fact that three fruit boxes have been grudgingly filled with miscellaneous crap seems to indicate a victory of sorts on my part.
New towels, bedding, underwear, socks and other sundries have been washed and dried and packed into another orange box. They will be transferred to a suitcase next week.
Meanwhile in my room there is the aforementioned suitcase, filling up with what to wear in New York clothes. I don't understand the concept of capsule packing. You never know how many pairs of pants you may need. I am going up skyscrapers after all.
A kitchen filled to the gills with food. I have baked enough to feed a scout patrol for a week. It will all be in vain. Mum will treat the boys to sweets everyday after school. They will love it. I just have to let it go.
Bolognese and curries cooked and frozen to aid the tea-time dilemma. I may be trying to teach my Mother to suck eggs.
An empty laundry basket, and enough ironed school uniform to last a week. I was taught by the best. She won't be happy that there is nothing to be 'getting on with' when she arrives.
A new cardi. I had to. It's Autumnal red. So I can be seen in a crowd when I'm singing 'The Circle Of Life' a la Kimmy Schmitt in Times Square next week. You think I won't, don't you? Sam is going to film me.
I have industrially cleaned the bathrooms. My fingers are peeling from all the bleach.
There is enough loo paper to make a mardi gras float. How much do you leave two boys and one middle aged lady? I don't have the answer to that. If in doubt, bulk buy.
There is Calpol, plasters, wet wipes and all manner of aids to recovery in the medicine cabinet. They'll thank me for it if the UK gets hit by the plague while I'm on the Staten Island Ferry.
I have put aside a pile of Olly's favourite bed time stories. I'm really hoping he doesn't miss me. We've only ever been apart for a couple of days.
I know Alfie is plotting some sort devious plan involving an xbox. I've already grassed him up. He doesn't realise that the eyes in the back of my head were inherited from his Nanny.
So Marc, Sam and I fly to New York on Friday. I haven't got past the nervous stage, so I'm not quite at the excited stage just yet. I can't help it. It's not a glass half empty thing. It's a Dear Lord, Sam is off to Uni as soon as we get back and I have to somehow manage to wash and dry the contents of his suitcase in half a day thing. It's also a flying thing. And a general travelling thing. And a being away from Olly and Alfie thing.
Can you take a deep breath for me, and slowly exhale at about 7pm on Friday evening? We should have just about taken off by then, and I will be on the gin.
Love to you all. Be good while I'm away.
Thank you to all your comments on my last post. I've replied to each and every one. I'm going to try and make that a thing from now on. But I may sometimes forget. Or not have the time. Or indeed anything witty to say. xx