I'm tea-ing in my bedroom tonight, just good old english breakfast.
Suitcases are three quarters packed, any last minute forgotten items can be thrown in before they're zipped and loaded.
Three excited little people went to bed with their backpacks beside them, ready for the adventures of tomorrow. The first overseas trip, the five of us. Their first time to Bali, and the first time flying since our Sydney trip (oh would you check out my sleeping babe!).
Rosie the fish is off on her own adventure, being babysat by her new little mate, and our lovely Gran will come to feed Indiecat, and make herself a cuppa and keep her company daily, for a little while. We are ready.
Today, over a coffee in my kitchen with a friend, I realised that the reason I'm often leaving things until the last minute is because I work better under pressure. I achieve more when I am maxed out, crazy busy, on the deadline. It was a revelation. She said, "clearly you're not busy enough, Em" and she's right. Oh I'm busy, but I don't have the pressure of set goals, and things that must be accomplished by a deadline. And although the thought scares me, I just know that I achieve more when I have to, when there's no choice.
Because if there's a choice, there's procrastination. There's a novel, or there's something crafty to do.
If that visitor is coming at 10:30, then the sheets simply must be washed, dried and placed back on the bed by that time, and don't forget the dishes, and do make sure the floor is swept and morning tea is baked. And I achieve all this and more.
It's illogical. But it seems that this is the way it is.
And afterwards I thought this: it's in conversations with friends that we begin to see ourselves more clearly.
They put voice to things we haven't been able to, or recognise things from their standpoint that aren't as evident to us.
What's in front of our faces can sometimes be too close, blurred.
It's not until we stand back, that we are able to see, and sometimes we can't do that unless we have a friend, pulling us backwards, gently pointing our vision in the right direction.
And the advantage of this particular friend is that she has known me since year 11.
When we were fifteen and a little bit boy crazy, and then sixteen, and seventeen, and feeling like we were adults, grown up and driving.
She's known me when I was single, and dating, and before I was oopsiedaisy-pregnant, and married. And she can see me probably better than I can myself sometimes.
And then I sit here and sigh, and wonder why I am so blessed to be surrounded by a gazillion friends I could call my best friend at any given moment.
And that it's over a simple tea, in the kitchen, or our the back watching jumping kiddos, or in a quiet cafe, that words exchanged can be so impacting.
The power of a little tea with you or me.