2024.09.02 Angst About Going To Grandpa K's Funeral

I got called last Wednesday by mom - basically only ever happens when death is involved. Which would be extremely creepy, and possibly an explanation for why I ended up married to a vampire, but it's really more of an expression of my mom's particular ilk of mental illness. Is it mental illness, though, if she's happy and always functioned this way?

Anyway. It was to tell me that my Grandpa Kosiancic's interment at the Nelson cemetery would be this Wednesday.

It's a 10-hour drive, nominally with charge stops, or a ridiculous overpriced and even longer set of plane tickets. More complicated, though, was that I would be travelling while Amy is working. So the original scheme was to reduce the time Zora would be left alone at home by leaving around midnight on Tuesday, such that I had a couple hours flex time to get to the cemetery. This was an all-too-common a plan for my 10-hour drives to-and-from university, but that was when I was in my 20's and... well, stupid. Now I'm a weak old(ish) man, and I'm pretty sure I'd have to sleep somewhere after 02:00, which opens up for all kinds of things to go wrong.

Plus, and this is a typical problem for me - I have worries about my projects at work. I've already been gone 6 weeks this summer, and shit is going sideways in a couple different dimensions. It makes very little logical sense to be all wound up on behalf of a multi-billion-dollar international corporation, but maybe that's the humanizing work I do to earn my (mildly) vaunted pay.

Lastly, there's the equipment worry of a long-range trip into darkest Canuckistan with an electric car. Which is mildly hilarious considering the rock-solid dependability of Ghost compared to the rickety steeds I used to flog for endless road trips through the expansive wildernesses of BC. But with age comes cowardice - or, it's euphemistic equivalent, wisdom.