I'm not stressed anymore, now that I know I have assigned seats. All I have to do is get to the airport, and I'm not really looking forward to that.
J's son turned himself in yesterday, presumably because it was raining and he was tired of being cold and wet. Our heat wave is over; it's been 60-65 degrees the last few days. No complaints here! :o) Anyhow, so J's son showed up at school, and because J had reported him missing and he is a chronic runaway, he had to go to CRC (which I guess is juvenile hall). He's there now. J and her husband have to go down to the courthouse because their son goes before the judge this afternoon, and they may bring him home or they may leave him in CRC till Friday. Either way, the most likely scenario is that I will have to drive my vehicle down to the courthouse in order to pick her up. Then we'll continue on in my vehicle to the airport, and she'll drive it back home again.
I don't want to drive to the airport, I really don't. I used to love to drive. But ever since I got pregnant, I've had a huge fear of driving and of getting hurt. I don't mind myself getting hurt; I've lived 26 pretty good years, and if the good Lord wants me home again, I'd rather not but I figure I've had a good taste of life. Grace is just starting out. I don't want her in an accident that could really hurt her. So now I would really prefer not to drive that far. It takes me two hours to drive to SeaTac Airport, and most of that on the insanity that is I-5. It just makes me nervous, is all.
Although I have to say that I think once I get to Virginia, I am going to try to convince my stepmom to let me drive as often as possible when she and I go somewhere. She's not quite the best driver in the world (she ran into the bank with our full-size van back when we lived in Illinois), and DC traffic makes her even worse. We plan on driving to Pennsylvania not long after I arrive, and I'm hoping she's going to let me drive most of that. I feel better behind the wheel than I do with her behind the wheel.
Come to think of it, I'm not too keen on being in the same car with my father. He used to be quite a good driver, cautious when necessary, but more than willing to drive defensively if the situation called for it. Now he's turned into an aggressive driver. I don't get motion sick, but if I did, I think I would puke the whole time I am in the car with him. If he's not stomping on the brake, he's flooring the accelerator. Plus he just gets mad at DC traffic. I don't understand that -- he's lived there for eleven years now; it's not like it's going to get any better. But I won't be able to drive his vehicle. He has a 2001 Toyota Sequoia, and he doesn't allow ANYONE to drive it. Not even my stepmom. I don't blame him not allowing her to drive it; she may run into another bank! :o) I seriously doubt he'll let me drive it, though. At least I'll have the option of driving Marty's station wagon!