Ok, I’m early. Like WAY early. Like “why didn’t I sleep in another hour & a half?” early. I guess I freaked at the prospect of not having packed anything, so I got up at 6 a.m. I need to leave my apartment around 9:30 or so, which’ll put me at the airport around 10:00 for my noon flight. I don’t care what anyone says, I’m not getting there more than 2 hours before my flight — every time I’m actually on time or early, I breeze right through security & end up sitting at the gate for an hour, waiting to board.

Anyway, it’s 8:15 and I’m done. Packed. I have a few things left to gather up (cd’s for the walkman, etc.), but all the critical stuff is done. Even the curling irons (yes, I meant that in the plural form — it takes 2 of them to get my ‘do to look right) are packed. Since I have to curl my hair with them in the morning and then wait for them to cool off before I put them in the suitcase, they’re usually the last thing to go. And they’re done.

Damn. I’m glad I’m not frantically running late, but all things being equal, I think I would’ve preferred to sleep in.