Just one sleep away from walking to the ferry…

to catch the train…

to make my way to SeaTac.

It’s been a whirlwind.

New home. New town. Unpacked boxes everywhere.

I found my passport—at the bottom of my favorite-things box, tucked beneath some classic tchotchkes and a few well-loved crystals (obviously).

But where’s my eye mask? Because I will need that for sleep.

I’m lining out my clothes, prepping my long-haul flight kit, and my brain is still slightly elsewhere, but the excitement is starting to rise like dough on a sunny windowsill.

I don’t need much, but also—I don’t know what I need.

The weather app says I made good choices, so fingers crossed something on the internet is accurate this week.

And the stress pit rash?

Let’s just say it’s healing. Not gone-gone. But way less angry than it was on Monday. I’m calling that a travel prep win.

Today, I’m meditating my way through a work project on this final day, trying to mellow the background buzz of anxiety.

But soon…

I’ll be walking the streets of Milan.

Riding the train to Bologna.

Then heading to Naples.

With good friends.

Really good food.

And yes—so much pasta I might turn into pasta. (Or fall asleep in my plate like I did in my highchair when I was two.)

Here’s where I land…

I’m not totally ready. But I’m totally going.

And that? That’s enough.

Baci baci,

Michelle

P.S. There may not be a Slow Sundays post this week or next. Not because I’ve forgotten, but because I won’t be slow-sipping in solitude. I’ll be somewhere in Italy, lost in good company, wandering cobblestone streets, and tasting culture. Know I’m living the kind of story I’ll want to tell you later.