Mean Time

I've begun the practice of living on Greenwich Mean Time here on the East Coast in preparation for my upcoming trip, as a way of preemptively battling jet lag. It's like living on Bar Time multiplied by 20, which would have bouncers putting me out on the street at 8:30pm (which has happened). Coincidently, that is also the time I went to bed last night. Still, even for London, it's early.

I got home to Havre de Grace, Maryland, safe and sound Tuesday evening. (I plan on blogging about my reflections on the trek with Skip either later today or sometime in the near future.) It was no surprise to Mom, who had the front light on 10 minutes before I pulled into the driveway. (I hate being predictable.) I've notified the bank that I will be traveling abroad. I have my international driver's license and passport folded away in a book I plan on bringing. I've packed my pack; later today I will be taking it out onto the trail to see how it fits and what adjustsments, if any, need to be made. Every practical consideration has been accounted for, and yet, I can't sleep.

I'm going to see my Love in two days, after three months of being apart, which is longer than we've actually been together. It's a little weird and we're both a little nervous about it. Neither one of us knows what we're going to do or how we're going to act when we see each other. I've envisioned every scenario. All of them, I know, will be irrelevant when I see her beautiful face. I'll look at her and it will all make sense again.