I think I've been to Disney World more times than anyone I know. Or at least that was true when I was a kid, and I would bring it up, a lot. I mention that to say the phrase, "Up all night like a kid about to go to Disney World" doesn't even put a dent in how I've been feeling for the past month.
I've packed. Re-packed. Unpacked and ironed, which I see now was dumb because then I re-packed and now I think I have to re-iron. Ugh. Maybe you can see my dilemma, or should I mention the folding. Or should I say the folding, unfolding, and then rolling. I've checked flights and reservations, cancelled them, and reserved them again. Spent countless hours on Hostel World and Air BnB looking at neighborhoods and places to stay in nearly every region of every Southeast Asian country and have made a google Map cool enough to use as a Game of Thrones intro.
The waiting. I started counting down at 74 days, and my days feel longer now than they did in October. There isn't a single minute in my day that I miss and it seems like every second is taunting me about the army of seconds that are following. And the best part? I'm waiting to get on a plane to have the longest wait I've ever sat through. A 22 hour sit and spin to the other side of the world. My bag is by the door, waiting on me and honestly, I just started to feel bad for the little guy. I've still got so many friends and family to see and spend time with before we leave, and he's just sitting there, waiting, ready to go.