I’m stalling.
I’ve packed the ashes in my carry-on luggage. The bag that I expect to check is empty. I leave for the airport in seven hours.
As I have maintained, my sleep schedule is beyond unreasonable at this point. I suspect that waking up tomorrow will require two alarm clocks and my cell phone.
I’ve slowly weaned myself off the medications that have slowed me down as of late, which may be why I’m sitting here playing along to Foxboro Hot Tubs and having chord progressions and lyrics float around inside my thick skull.. (rather than pack, or even pretend to get ready).
It feels like the journey is nearly over. Even though I can’t bring myself to believe it was a journey in the first place.
Must be the denial.
