1 Day, 17 Hours.

That is what the countdown timer says. 1 day, 17 hours.

Chris arrived Monday evening and has already packed up the kitchen for me and been very supportive, There is still much to do before Friday but many of the loose ends are now tied up and I feel more and more prepared . . .

. . . and more and more nervous. Before now I was simply excited about the move, but as the actual move gets here, there are so many little things to remember and so much that can go wrong, it's rather nervewracking. I'm excited about the end-result but extraordinarly stressed about the practicalities of reaching said result. There are only two more nights left in this apartment.

. . . and of course, the doubts about, "what am I missing?" bring up other stresses as my brain goes into over-ride and I think, "did I sign the medical insurance forms?", "is car insurance set?", "do the cats have everything they need on the other end?", and it never ends. It's not a short trip where if I forget my toothbrush I can just go buy another, after all. There are serious things that if forgotten can be very problematic.

Anyway, x-country moves are fun, and very much not fun, but I can't wait for the end result.