It would have gone swimmingly had it not been for that message – the one that came in early in the morning: hello, we’re looking for a condo in this area and we like yours... can we see it?
Well no, I’m leaving in a couple of hours... but later this week, my occasional traveling companion who is not this time my traveling companion can show it...
And because I am entrusting a showing to said occasional traveling pal Ed, I have to make triple sure that all is in order. (Why I felt that I needed to refresh all sheets, towels, etc is beyond me, but one wants to be thorough...)
And so it is tight, time-wise. I nearly miss the bus that takes me to the bus. Which, due to the construction around town, I also nearly miss. And it continues to be thus. An accident on the highway, resulting in a back way to O’Hare, and so on.
Such is travel: something happens and you adjust. Again and again.
I’ll post now, but without a photo. You know what an airplane looks like, right? I’m near the gate, looking at a line of airplanes. I hear we’re taking off in ninety minutes. Time to exhale. I have nothing more to rush for, to catch, no sharp connections to keep me on edge. Time to sit back and think about what it means to be going elsewhere.