It’s 7:12 am on the morning we fly off to Germany, and I’m sitting in the dark in my friend Linda’s living room with a knot in my stomach the size of Mount Rushmore. Have I taken care of all the paperwork for shipping the dog? Are any of our suitcases over the weight limit? Will I have any trouble at the passport check, or Atlanta security for that matter? Will the car I reserved be there, and large enough to hold all our stuff? Will I have any trouble paying deposits and getting the apartment key? Will we have electricity the first day? What about going to get furniture? AAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHH!

I’m a worrier, just like Momo (my grandmother, may she rest in peace) — with one big exception: I (usually) only worry about things that could actually happen, or that I can control to some extent. I feel like I’ve planned as well as humanly possible for this major exodus, and considered as many foul-ups as I can think of, and my recourse for each. But I feel this huge weight as I am responsible not only for myself on this journey, but also Sheridan, Kevin, and Siggy.

Well, we’ll see what the day brings. Back to your regularly scheduled programming…