Less than a week
I don’t know how I’m going to get everything done that I need to get done between now and Wednesday. Every time I think I’m catching up, I realize something I’ve forgotten or someone asks me to do something else.
The past few days have been spent worrying about health insurance for the team — compiling the information I needed for the application form, going back and forth with my co-leader about how to pay for the insurance, whether the money to pay for the insurance was in the proper account, dealing with various unexpected regulatory hoops and challenges, and so on. Tonight, I had to cut out each team member’s little insurance ID card, stuff it into an envelope, and write the team member’s name on the outside. The envelopes are necessary because, once we land in Nairobi, each team member will place into his/her envelope the American money that Pastor Paul will convert into shillings for us the morning after we arrive.
I’m still trying to fill all the gaps in personal information in our team notebook. I had to register all of us with the State Department this week, and make up a few extra name tags for specific people, and hand-hold a few team members who haven’t flown much or who haven’t flown since E-tickets became common.
And all of that is on top of the packing and last-minute shopping and other preparations on which I am way behind as a member of the team. And I’ve got extra responsibilities and extra hours at the paper due to my interim position. And my nieces are celebrating birthdays.
Today, I had to drive to Murfreesboro for a doctor’s appointment. I was read the riot act about my weight, as expected, but my blood work was good. I got the stitches removed from my finger and I got my anti-malarial prescription, so I killed three birds with one stone.
We’re supposed to be keeping a devotional journal for our team preparations, and I’m a day behind on mine. I’m the one who mailed them out and asked everyone else to be diligent, and I’m a day behind.
I stopped on the way home at a sushi restaurant in the ‘boro that I’d been meaning to try. I shouldn’t have spent the money, but it was nice just to sit down and relax for a few minutes. A co-worker had highly recommended the place, and he was not mistaken.
My apartment, meanwhile, is a pigsty, even more so than usual, and likely to remain so until at least August. If our plane goes down in the Atlantic, I can only hope that my next-of-kin, upon seeing this place, will not judge me too harshly.
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