Returning to the scene of the crime...

As I packed up my luggage last night.. neatly folding my clothes, tucking away a money belt, setting aside my passport... I couldn't swallow a sense of impending doom as I zipped up my suitcase.

Instead of packing for a fabulous trip to London, I felt like I was packing for disaster.

Maybe, I suppose, it has something to do with a little robbery in a British pub this march. Perhaps it's a sense of disappointment that this time around, I won't have my fantastic roommate Rachel to go crashing premieres with. Or maybe it's just because my traveling pal Mike just found out he won't arrive until Thursday -- two days after me.

Or maybe I'm just tired.

My brilliant plan to "travel every weekend and just do work during the week," is shaping up to be exhausting. After Habitat, Belfast and Glenvaugh this week, I was hardly in any shape to sit down and work on a paper yesterday. Or endure three hours of lecture about the printing practices of the Irish Parliament in the 1600s. And that was after crashing early on Sunday night and sleeping later than I should have on Monday.

Being a fabulous world traveler is exhausting.

Not, mind you, that I have any reason to complain. As I put the final items in my suitcase this morning, I couldn't help but chastise myself for ignoring the fact that I'm flying to London this week, dirt cheap, and by the pure gratitude of the U.S. Ireland Alliance. I'm going to be able to sit for hours in the British Library, walk the Imperial War Musuem 10 times and go to shopping heaven in H&M.

The trick, however, will be surviving two days on my own and NOT getting my passport nabbed again.

Unless, of course, officer Paul is on duty this week......

(Disclaimer: I am only kidding about Officer Paul to anyone reading this... ie... Jon Page.)