So we're off to Chicago this weekend to see Greg's boyfriend Bono and the rest of U2 kick off their North American tour at Soldier Field. I can't believe I just typed that sentence. I can't believe how much I have done to prepare for this trip, and how none of what I've done includes coming up with an itinerary or packing or anything like that. In fact, if you ask me right now what airline we are flying on or what hotel we are staying at, I would say "I don't know." Because seriously, I don't remember.
This week has been very angsty. Very very very much happening at work, my stomach has been ON FIRE (per my previous posting about my recent stomach issues) and I've also been trying to school my mother and mother-in-law about what it takes to live in the world of Jane, as they will be taking care of her in shifts this weekend. On top of that, Jane has been having a HORRIBLE time when I drop her off at daycare, which essentially makes me cry when I leave and want to shoot myself because it's so sad.
So the fact that I'm going AWAY ON A PLANE (oh and yes, we are flying the morning of September 11, which for some reason makes me feel proud and all "eff you, terrorists") to a MAJOR AMERICAN CITY that I am mostly unfamiliar with but seems very cool, what with its PIZZA and OPRAH and BONO and what not, and that we are going to see a concert that is going to kick so much ass, is completely lost on me. It truly seems like it's not happening. Oh and don't doubt the fact that I will be crying like, oh, say, like Jane when she's being dropped off at daycare when I leave, because this is the first time I have been away from her for so long and oh I know, SHUT UP AMANDA, you're going to do something really cool, OK, I am going to stop typing now.
See ya on the flip side.