We often make decisions that we don't realize are far-reaching. Those are the ones we look back on and see how important they were, though they may not have seemed so at the time. Today I am making decisions that will affect only the next few months of my life, as far as i know, and yet the thought makes me very nervous. Isn't that silly? As if I am going to be utterly devastated or changed if I pick the wrong tee-shirt. Nevertheless. Notwithstanding. Even although.

As anyone knows who has been following the breathless, exciting, rousing, thrilling, boring, mind-blowing blow-by-blow (blog-by-blog) account of my life, today is L-Day - finishing the Luggage that goes tomorrow, not to be seen again until I arrive in my stateroom on the Insignia on March 22. I will have time to think of last-minute items to tuck into my carry-on, but I'm reserving priority space in it for my papers, research and a new project, plus a mini-filing system for new papers I want to keep, and of course, Minnie (my iiPad mini) and Little Mac (my MacBookAir), oh, and recharger plugs and cables and things. Also a nightie and a toothbrush.

I manage to control my nerves during the day but at night, after a brief sleep, I wake up thinking of things I have to remember. Why do I do that? Why do we do that? I'm sure you do, too. I have noticed that on any trip I have ever taken, my last-minute after-thought is one of the most valuable. My bag is shut, I'm ready to go out the door, and I rush back and get a a favourite sweater, or an extra pair of socks, or a scarf, something that in the next few weeks I cannot live without and why did I wait till the last minute to think of it? Right now, I'm wondering what it's going to be?

Does anyone care?

Well, sometimes. I just had a comment from someone telling me what the related word is to the set maternal, paternal, fraternal. It's sororal. (See my blog on words.) Thank you!

Now tell me what I'm going to forget.

Here's another writer you should know about if you don't already: Jincy Willett. I read murder mysteries, all different genres (procedural, thriller, cozy, etc.). I read them while I pedal on a stationary, recumbent pedalling machine - a bicycle without handlebars - that leaves my hands free to hold a book so I won't die of boredom. I read a mystery by Willett called The Writing Class and loved it.

I lent it to a couple of people in my building but demanded it back because I wanted to read it again. I came across Willett in the NYT: first a book review she wrote, then a new book she published. I read it, too,; she is a different voice (s they say). Now I'm reading Class for the third time and still enjoying it. Willett, like her heroine in Writing Class, is a writer teaching creative writing to a night class. She has a weird sense of humour, kooky contacts, blogs, links, and she is a stickler for good grammar. She's funny and informative; so is the book. it's fun. I need fun. I won't give any illustrations from her blog(s). You can look her up and find out for yourself.

Once I started packing for my cruise, which meant trying on clothes and having to look at myself, I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking of more stuff, to remember, to include, to do, to buy. I calmed down, sort of, by reasoning that after all, I don't have to pack for three months, I just have to pack for a week. Laundry will take care of repetition. I'll stay clean. Add a few special numbers for evening dinners (not formal, just "golf club dressy"), and more shoes, and I'll be fine. I read somewhere that people born under the sign of Pisces are fussy bout their feet. That's me. I usually take more shoes, proportionally, than clothes. I don't mind if my feet aren't fashionable; I do care iif they hurt. Oh my, a blog becomes terribly intimate.