My suitcases are all packed. The house sitters are comfortable. Every single thing is taken care of. (Well, there’s some work I’ll have to do in my spare moments. It couldn’t be helped.) Otherwise, I’m ready to go.
And yet. At the risk of sounding like the crazy cat lady I am, I feel quite sad about leaving the felines. The fact is, I live alone and they are my constant companions. I like them. And I’ve reached the age at which I know how fragile and ephemeral life is. So I worry about them, and I’ll really miss them.
I’m nervous, excited, and melancholy all at the same time.