Wednesday, 27 May 2009

Badger That

So apparently when I was in that torture shop called a 'hospital', not only was I drugged to the eye balls on morphine and other sweet top shelf IV stash, I seem to have OD-ed on what seem to be the 'chill pill'.

Picture this: I finish off my last week at work and spend a hazy hung over weekend back in Aberdeen to return back to Londonshire with two weeks before departure. I had contemplated about packing (ok, by my old standards this is stretching, so this is odd for me). With less than week to go, I casually cascade to the Chinese Embassy to sort out my final visa (dude, not a sweat) and why not, lets order my rucksack (seriously?!).

Bag was to arrive on the Friday; it didn't happen. Visa was to be picked up too, I some how forgot (!!). Bank Holiday weekend arrived, to which I thought about booking the rest of the accommodation, but I thought so long and hard that I had no energy left to actually do it. (Did I also get a lobotomy in hospital that I did not know of because something is definately not right here...) 

Tuesday afternoon with ONE working day to go before I fly and there is still no sign of a proper 'Cecilia style-eques' panic over 'B-admin' (what the hell is going on?). Just as I opened the door to leave the house to pick up my passport, on the phone at the same time giving the rucksack suppliers a right royal bollocking; the delivery guy appears at my door. Oh. Well, the bollocking was well deserved and I'm sure there were at least a few learning points that for the company in question to erm... use to 'move forward' with there customer service. Free consultancy. Miraculously by Tuesday evening I had my passport, a rucksack, booked whatever I needed and even drew up a packing lists (wahey there is progress!), yet still no motivation to pack. (Someone call a doctor...)

By magic in less than three hours, my packing was sorted on Wednesday afternoon (Paul, what was that you were saying about me needing to pack past midnight?! I think you lose...). Everything fell in to place (baring the distractions of watching the final few episodes of Gilmore Girls and Facebook chat!). Returning home in the late evening peering through one eye, after one too many Long Island Ice Teas, my packing was done. How in Gawds name...

In the midst of being placid and disorganised as hell, my years of obsessive compulsive anal retentiveness (yes I can see you nodding) managed to subliminally overcome making a total doo-doo of the lack of prep and packing. The organised freak is overpowering and its evilness overwhelms any desire to go 'meh'. Above all, I don't even know it! Its unreal. I feel jipped. Panicking was part of the fun. I've been robbed...

So guess what, I compensated by panicking about the lack of panicking! I've just spent the last blog complainingly about being too laid back... I feel like I am me again! Somethings, somehow, never changes. This is going to one long road of discovery. All I have to do now is make sure I get on that plane in... oh, 8 hours.

Badger that.