It's 2.30pm and I haven't started packing yet.  If I were Karen I would have started packing a week ago.  How much does one need for a long weekend?  I can put it all into a fanny pack, with an extra shirt in the guitar case, but Karen thinks differently. So I have to go into the attic, which totally bums me out because it reminds me I haven't replaced the broken thermostat on the attic fan yet, and get a suitcase.  The small suitcase.  I'm not taking the big one.  I keep telling her it's just me, and all I need is two T shirts; two socks and one pair of jeans. She disagrees.  She keeps talking about accidents. We have divergent opinions about accidents.  I'm afraid a string will break; she's afraid I will break. She's worried about how I will look in the hospital.  They don't care!  If I go over a cliff I'm going to shit myself anyway!  Nurses are going to cut the clothing off and not notice if the shit is an hour or a month old. But if it shuts her up I'll pack a suitcase.

I've got so much to do.  We had an issue at the dart match last night so I have to meet the league president and the other captain to sort out the repercussions.  I guess I'd better get that bean and ham soup that I promised, together before the meeting.  I need to get the song list together so Roger and I can go over it on the plane.  I wish I hadn't crashed the computer a couple of months ago.  It's a pain putting 1000 songs into an Excell format, complete with attribrutions; styles etc. but it's what the AFE wants, that's what they'll get. Roger will be here tonight to critisize.  We have a 6.30 flight.  I know that they say to be there two hours early, but that's to avoid the lines; I figure one hour is enough, but Roger's a bit on the anal side so I just know we'll be setting the clocks for 3.30.  I don't get up at 3.30, I go to bed at 3.30.

(memo to self: It's Karen's birthday the day after you get back.  Find some good Southwestern jewelry.)

It's going to be a long day.