35 Days. I don’t want to jinx it.

But I am really starting to think, with 35 days to go, that our trip to Sicily is going to go one of two ways.

  1. It will be a great reset for us both individually and as a couple.
  2. It will be a disaster. We won’t learn anything new about each other, about life. We’ll be bored, hot and unhinged and I won’t learn how to use the wood oven. My family will find us annoying.

I like to call this catastrophising*

It’s black or white thinking. A neat but toxic hot mess of “what if” and “as if” and “there is no way”, and then the sky will fall. Honest.

So I don’t plan. I don’t plan because of the disappointment of not sticking to plans. I still don’t know why we decided to go away again so soon. We’re fucking impetuous, that’s why.

* I did not invent this word, but I easily could have.