Tomorrow's flight has been cancelled, and I've been bumped.
Thankfully, this is the Sydney leg of my trip, and there's planes every half an hour between Sydney and Melbourne. It's one of the busiest airline routes in the world. Not that I have anything that can't be moved until 7.30 pm, when I'll be at a play, it's still a little disconcerting.
Even worse when the Qantas app won't let you accept your new flight... the anxiety starts to spiral.
A mercifully quick phone call later and I'm all checked in and sorted and thinking that the extra half an hour at home will good for doing the last bits for my house sitter - make the bed. Give the bathroom and loo a final going over. Clean out the cat litter tray. Do all the fun jobs before 8 am when I'll need to get myself to the airport.
I'm also dithering about what book to take.
And should my knitting come with me.
And just what am I going to wear to Bass in the Grass next weekend.
This travelling thing has its pitfalls.
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