nervous blogging

You know how you're never supposed to engage in drunk dialing? (Yeah, thankfully if your heyday of getting drunk was before the advent of the ubiquitous cell phone, this wasn't as big a deal. Phew.) Well, I'm thinking that there should also be a rule against nervous blogging, for though I want to write a post tonight, all my mind can do is roll over these thoughts, in no particular order:

• What's the date? Oh my god, I've got twelve days until I go back to work. Where did the last four years go??
• Is everything packed? What's left on the list? Another looooonnng car trip is on the horizon. The kids get to watch movies on hubby's computer, but I get really damn loopy by hour five. (I know, I know. Eight or so hours in the car doesn't compare to some folks' cross-country drives. But some folks are just plain crazy for even tackling that in the first place.)
• What will the next six months hold for us? Will I have any energy left to care for three children at home after being surrounded by eighteen others all day long in the classroom?
• Will I ever find time to blog again? Or read a book again? Or clean my house again? 
• Will we be able to sell this house next year in this awful market? Will all the blood, sweat and tears (and tears and tears and tears) that have been put into the home renovations make a difference on the sale price if we do? Will we be able to buy a new one in the neighborhood we want? What are the odds that these stars align?
• Seriously, is it feasible for me to sleep for the entire ride north? Eight hours sounds luxurious, even if it is strapped in a seat belt in the mostly-upright position.
• Is there any chocolate in the house? 

Okay, the last one isn't necessarily a product of my nerves, but of my long-standing chocolate addiction, to which my thoughts are a constant slave. Either way, there's a whole lot of nervous energy going on right now, and I've got some more bags to pack, so I should at least put it to some good use.

Your friend in anxiety,