Before most major trips in recent memory, I have engaged in an ambitious sewing project. There have been ball gowns, experimental sort of cocktail dresses, and most recently, a fancy winter coat. None of these were strictly speaking necessary - I did need such a garment for each occasion, but in all cases, I already owned something I could have worn. And in the case of the fancy coat, I really probably didn't need a dressy coat so much as a functional coat, and I did already have one of those, making the coat-production of even more dubious necessity.

Before the sewing projects . . actually, in between the sewing projects, also . . there was the artwork for sale at WriterCon, which required printing and fixing and matting and such.

In each case, I was up until some ungodly hour of the morning for the two nights before the trip frantically attempting to finish the project in question. I arrived at my "vacation" destination wanting nothing so badly as 2 days' solid sleep.

Before this upcoming trip to England, I was sewing shirts - everyday-wear kind of shirts for myself, and I attempted a skirt - and baby clothes. And I made a resolution: I was not going to be sewing/matting/doing-any-sort-of-project the night before. I would start early, I would set reasonable goals, and if the deadline started to loom close, I would scrap whatever project / aspect of project could not be completed without compromising my sleep. And, wonder of wonders, I actually stuck by this. I did not complete my skirt; I discovered that I fail at making appliqued baby blankets and decided to just go with baby stuff I knew I could complete successfully. I was quite proud of myself.

It is 2:16AM the day before my departure. I don't fly out until 9PM tomorrow, but I have to be at work 9AM to roughly 2PM. I still have a little bit of packing to do, but not much.

. . . I just finished repotting a tree.

Before that, I repotted several violets.

I'm contemplating going out and catching and relocating the baby dragonflies now (they need to get out of the wheelbarrow, as parents want use of the wheelbarrow while I'm gone) by flashlight - all that's stopping this plan is that I don't know where in the heck I put the fishbowl.

What do trees, violets, and dragonflies have in common? They all really could have been re-homed tomorrow between when I left work and when I need to leave for the airport. I've got 4 hours, and I'm 90% packed.

What do overly-ambitious sewing projects, artwork in need of matting, violets, trees, and dragonflies have in common? They're excellent ways to occupy one's brain when one can't get one's brain to stop spinning. It seems that I was putting the cart before the horse in terms of the cause and effect of my recurrent pre-trip sleep deprivation; I simply cannot sleep for about 2 days before a major trip. I discover boundless reserves of frenetic energy. I could build you a small bridge out of chewing gum and toothpicks, right now.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, all that just seeps right out the soles of my shoes the minute I actually set foot on the plane. Pre-trip, I am extremely productive but also extremely anxious - in hyperdrive mode, and unable to snap out of it. Get me up in the air, and it's like flipping a switch. No matter what I've forgotten, left unfinished, or possibly messed up - no matter what catastrophes may be brewing in the world down there - I am several thousand feet in the air in a glorified tin can, and nobody and nothing can reach me.

I love flying. I really, sincerely, truly do.