We are either heading to North Georgia for a long weekend with Rob’s family tomorrow – or staying home with sick Owen who picked the evening before our planned trip to Lake Rabun to start with a little runny nose and a fever of 101.
So tonight, not sure where his little illness is headed, we wound up packing for a trip we may not take. I’ve never especially liked packing, but I’ve realized that the prospect of futile packing is a little extra irksome. If Owen pulls off a miraculous recovery, as he’s been known to do with past 12-hour illnesses, we’d really like to squeeze in a visit with Rob's grandparents in Marietta tomorrow. So we’ve been packing in case -- and pausing with the packing now and then to pat restless Owen back to sleep. And recognizing all the while that we may be unpacking before we ever get the stuff in the car.
Even before Owen got the fever today, he was a bit cranky while brother Will was feeling unusually rambunctious. I meanwhile had a whopper of a headache and the whole combo had me feeling as unsettled as Owen. So I called Rob at work, not to tell him to come home early – just to be sure he wouldn’t stay late. Once in a while he has to field those calls – just me, desperate to register a complaint.