Je suis inquiet?

We were supposed to go on a big blow-out vacation to Southern California in April 2020. Toward the end of February, there were some whispers about a big virus spreading through China. Then it hit the US. I remember making myself a couple of pair of Mickey ears, thinking, "We still have six weeks to go... this thing could resolve itself, and I want to be ready." Obviously, it didn't happen. We were fortunate and got all of our money back, even the stuff we'd pre-paid that was "nonrefundable." But it sucked.

What ended up happening, though, was that later that year, in October, we took an all-outside road trip around the Hill Country, and it was truly awesome. Cost a whole lot less, too.

Now here we are, on the verge of our first really big trip since the start of the pandemic. Don't get me wrong, we've gone to Port Aransas, West Texas, Galveston, and have done short jaunts to OKC, Dallas, San Antonio, and Waco, and really enjoyed ourselves. But this is the first full week, major travel trip we've planned in three years. And I am tentatively extremely excited. And also a little anxious about being excited. Because I hate letdowns. I'm a giant wuss about disappointment, and there's little I enjoy more than traveling.