Right now, I would say I’m 70% stressed and 30% excited… I’m hoping that as the days get nearer to my departure, those numbers will switch. Hopefully.
Things that are contributing to my stress:
My kitties: I have honestly picked up my cats once a day for the past week and looked into their furry faces and big copper eyes and said: “I will only be gone for 2 weeks! I promise I’ll come home for you! Please still love me! And please don’t lick other cat’s butts while at the cat boarding place and come home with some unidentifiable kitty disease!”
My phone: There is absolutely nothing wrong with my iPhone 4 — except the fact that it has zero global capabilities i.e. my phone won’t even work in Italy. So my options are: only use my phone when there’s wi-fi and supplement it with a calling card, or upgrade my whole plan and get an iPhone 5 and then have to get a SIM card to use minutes, texts and data. This is actually not an unreasonable idea considering with my luck, my phone will break on my trip and then I’ll have nothing to trade in. But did I mention I’m completely broke?
I’m broke: I think I have a can of tuna and some rotten cherries in my fridge right now. I guess I should have passed on the mocha this morning. But that’s why God created credit cards, right? Right?!? (P.S. This drink is an iced skinny mocha, and it only has 70 calories!) (P.P.S My name is spelled with a K, NOT a C).
Credit cards: Having never traveled internationally before, I would call myself whatever is below a baby-newbie-beginner traveler. Only recently did the thought occur to me that once I get to the land of gelato and spaghetti, they will not take Washingtons, Benjamins and Lincolns. Upon researching how to exchange money, it became even more overwhelming. Apparently, the exchange rate is completely dependent upon where you exchange it at: a U.S. bank before you leave, the airport, an ATM over there, and then there’s the option to use a credit card, but it depends on what bank you have for how much you get charged. Argh. So overwhelming.
A 10-hour flight: You know what else is overwhelming? Ten hours on a plane. I’ve never had to sit for 10 straight hours, let alone in a tin can way up in the air. What if I start freaking out and hyperventilating and the air marshal has to restrain me and we have to make an emergency landing in Greenland? Also, what if there’s a colonial woman churning butter on the wing of the plane? If you don’t get that reference, you need to rent Bridesmaids like, yesterday.
I’m just hoping that once I get over there, my worries will melt away and I’ll have some vino and everything will be molto!