Well, Zero Hour looms, so I’m getting in a patented Suzy tizzy. This always happens when I’m planning to leave the safety of home for the unfriendly skies. If second marriages are the triumph of optimism over experience, then my fear of disaster befalling me while flying is the triumph of pessimism over experience. Given the fact that our family seems to attract disaster in a nearly Kennedy-esque fahion, I feel that it’s exactly the kind of thing that would happen to me.
Everything seems to be making it harder to leave. My sister, who was supposed to accompany me, had to cancel due to bad luck, of course, and now I have to go all by myself. The Sopranos finally start their new season while I’m away. The weather here is utterly perfect, as it often is in September and October: clear blue sky, forecast high of 75° or so. Whereas the London forecast is 63° and scattered showers. Everything is saying, “Why go anywhere else when you live here?”