I'm leaving for boston in 45 minutes. Heather will be staying at our house for the weekend, up from Santa Barbara (she loves us, just can't stay away), possibly watching the dogs, maybe not. Andy said he may take them to his house and keep them, so heather may be off the hook. Maybe I should have asked he to water the gardens... eh.
My flight is at 7:00 am. What in heaven's name possessed me in my moment of ticket buying, I'll probably never know, but flight earlier than 10:00 am just do not work well for me.
Especially from SFO.
I figured for a 7:00 am flight, I'd want to be at the airport at 6:00 am, meaning I'd have to leave long term parking at 5:30 am, meaning I'd have to arrive at long term parking at 5:20 am, meaning I'd have to leave the house before 4:45 am, meaning I'd have to be awake by 4:30 am. Assuming I showered and packed and planned well the night before.
Planning well always means staying up until 1:30 am. I fell asleep around 1:30 am, and woke up at 4:30 am, actually made it out of bed at 4:35 am and was out of the house by 4:46 am. And there's where my planning fell apart.
My drive took about thirty minutes. Long term parking was easy to find and well signed, complete with a guy in a golf cart telling me where I could find a parking space on the second level. The shuttle was waiting at the bottom of the parking structure, so from parking to terminal was less than fifteen minutes. Checking in my bag and security took less than half an hour.
So, rather than arriving at the gate at 6:30 to walk straight onto the plane, sit down and pass out, I'm here in the terminal waiting, and hour and fifteen minutes early. Kris would be so proud of my early arrival time.
Me? I'm just tired.