Almost Ready

I've now done about as many loads of laundry a person can reasonably be expected to do in a two-week period.  Andrea's done just about as much shopping for children's clothes a person can reasonably be expected to do in a two-week period.

We've made the thousands of little decisions there are to be made about what to take, what to leave, what to put in which bag, until we just can't bring ourselves to make any more decisions . . . even though there are decisions yet to be made.

(This sets up a very strange dynamic, by the way, in which Andrea asks for help as she agonizes over a decision concerning, say, a pair of socks, and I am simply unable to give any advice at all.  We each deal with these things in our own way, I guess.)

In any case, we've decided, we've packed, we've stowed; tempers have flared, nerves have been rubbed raw; we're both exhausted.  The children - whom I just this evening dubbed The Entropy Sisters - have been by turns helpful and obstinate, civilized and wild, excited and anxious . . . and even now I'm not sure Corwyn has managed to fall asleep.  

But then, I just took the last load of laundry out of the dryer - the last load of laundry I will do in the Western hemisphere this January, no less - and I've almost got the kitchen looking presentable; the fridge is empty, and a box of produce is ready for some friends who will be checking on the house.  I've vacuumed some of the floors, and should have time to tend to other cleaning in the morning.  (Merry Maids indeed!)  Andrea is making the last few (agonizing) decisions and stowing the last few items in this bag or that (or should it be that bag or this?)

Pretty soon, the only thing left will be the going.