2 January 2011:
Am packing with a vengeance. Due to my frequent flyer status, the little treasures at Qantas permit me an extra 10kg of checked luggage. Fools. Anyone who has ever met me for longer than five minutes has worked out that I am a words person. My life is driven by words and my deep love of communication. I know virtually every word in the dictionary in four languages. However, I have the mathematical ability of a two year old and am simply unable to add 8 and 7 without the aid of a calculator. Nor do I care. That's what accountants are for. I am also notorious for being the Scam Queen of the Universe and will push any boundary put in front of me - mostly because I can and also because it's fun to see how far I can go using only my flirtatious nature, considerable gift of the gab, and the ability to raise one delicately arched eyebrow in sheer disbelief at being denied anything I ask for. The word 'no' only forms part of my vocabulary when I'm the one using it. Otherwise, I remain impervious to any attempt at making me conform to authority and regulation. Rules are for other people. I love rules as long as I'm free to break them.
So. I'm allowed 30kg of checked luggage, which in my decorative rather than functional brain equates to about 72. What fun! I am visualising an imminent baggage handlers strike, but you get that on the big jobs.
All the essentials are laid out - passport, travel documents, money, shoes, clothes, book, iPod, camera, chargers, plug converters - check. A quick dash down to the supermarket to stock up on the last minute travel essentials. I stroll up and down the health and beauty aisle - moisturiser, sunscreen, bandaids, wax strips, Berocca, ibuprofen, condoms, anti-bacterial hand gel, tissues. Hang on a minute.....condoms???? Oh please! Just shoot me now. My lustful intentions at this point in time are focused entirely on shopping, eating, sightseeing, drinking champagne and being pampered, and the last time I checked, prophylactics were not required for any of the aforementioned activities. Of course the best laid plans could well be stymied if I discover that George Clooney happens to be holidaying in Vietnam at the same time as us, in which case I'll be feeling rather regretful that the condoms are still in Woolies rather than in my luggage. Ah well....que sera sera as Doris would say. A pair of shoes always helps take my mind off disappointments.
Back home to iron travel clothes, double check my list and have several restorative cups of tea. Think about lunch and decide I'm far too wired to eat. Put on some music and boogie around the boudoir. Play with the dog. Fend off the advances of the married man who is currently pestering me with highly inappropriate intentions. Chat to some family and friends. Have a nanna nap. Another cup of tea and a bit more dancing. Attend to personal maintenance and gardening. Set alarm clock for 4:00am, knowing that I will be wide awake anyway.
Good gracious - I think I'm ready. How excitement!