I told myself on Friday that I was going to try to relax this weekend. I had my last group meeting for India, but other than that I was just going to take care of some stuff for work and do some reading. Or find someone with some Xanex and get some vodka. Either way, I was dedicated to trying to calm the hell down. Unsurprisingly, that didn’t happen.
I’m all packed! Hope I don’t need any of that stuff for the next seven days.
Now before you chastise me for packing about 4x more stuff than I could possibly need, just know that this is not my fault. I was all prepared to have a carry-on and a backpack only, I swear.
We have to take two bags (one gigantor and one carry on) because we are taking gifts (and I’m taking all the toilet paper) to our host families and to the people who provide our vocational visits. We were supposed to leave half of the big suitcase empty because we will be given a lot of stuff, but I decided to use it for TP storage. I mean, that should be a pretty balanced equation as giving and receiving occurs. Or it’s going to be a nightmare of too much stuff.
Also, I received a rude ass email this weekend telling me to quit being such a priss about the bathroom situation. The facilities are not the problem, I will use whatever is available without complaint, but I do prefer to have toilet paper. If that makes me prissy, then so be it.
We were told to pack lightly (which has been very hard considering I have so much extra space just crying out to be filled), so I was thrilled when I managed to get all of my clothes into the carry-on. I would have even less, but we have to have two polos with the Rotary seal, a blazer, and dress pants (with appropriate shoes) to wear to events. So those outfits take up most of the space. Even though packing light is not my preference and comes very unnaturally to me, I’m still pretty anxious about the semantics of hauling so much luggage around. I feel like I will need a large Bedouin caravan to assist me with all this stuff.
I just hope this isn’t our ride from the airport:
And if so, I hope that has a trailer hitch.
Poor Bardot became increasingly despondent the longer I packed. I couldn’t even cheer her up with peanut butter. I mean, she ate it, but she wasn’t cheerful about it.
She doesn’t even know how much fun she will have while I’m gone. She gets to stay with one of my good friends who has both a yard and another small dog for her to play with. She will be so happy to have someone smaller than her to boss around again.
After packing and re-packing and folding then re-folding, I spent a large amount of time going through my DVR series list and cutting shows. It was like Sophie’s Choice for me.
Also distressing? That there were well over 80 hours worth of shows set to recover over a five week period. I feel so much shame.
Even though I had grand plans to not watch Downton until the long haul back from India, I totally gave in the second I saw the preview. Without a moment’s hesitation, I settled down for three hours of pure Anglophile adulation. It started off with an excellent special on Highclere Castle.
I was particularly excited that they featured a good portion on Lady Almina and Lord Carnarvon (he famously funded the discovery of King Tut’s tomb). I highly recommend this excellent read about Lady Almina (who opened her home to World War I veterans and nursed many herself) written by the current Lady Carnarvon (<- that name gave me hell with its spelling). Such a fascinating woman.
I also finally learned the purpose of these things:
Turns out they have no purpose outside of a very extravagant lawn decoration. During the course of many an English period piece, I frequently wondered what those structures were. It is so nice to finally know that they are called “follies” and they are not play houses or an astrological observatory (I don’t know how popular telescopes were, but it seems like something rich aristocrats would enjoy). Anyway, that great mystery has been solved.
Then Downton started. I’m so happy it is back! I have missed those bitches. I’m also quite confounded that I find petulant Edith and asshole O’Brien likeable now. That sneaky Julian Fellowes. I might have also gotten a little teary eyed about this bromance:
Oh Branson Tom, you are too cute. And was Shirley MacLaine just a one-episode guest star? For some reason I was under the impression that she would be there longer. And that her character would be far more crass and outspoken. Anyway, I really enjoyed it, even though someone kept blocking it with her giant head.
Right in front of my face like I didn’t even exist. Such a jerk.