Well, it is Sunday evening and here we are, sitting at base camp. The crew has caught a really horrible case of landlubberiness and is fighting being whipped back into shape. So now it is time for not-a-plan B. Not-a-plan B will probably play out something like this:
2. Destroy any semblance of order. Begin digging through the mountains of stuff that has somehow migrated to the living room and attempt to convince it to exit to the camper in an orderly fashion.
3. Scream. A lot.
4. Spend the entirety of Monday night completing the process that is called packing, but which should be called something that sounds much more menacing. Chaucer would know a word for it.
5. Go to sleep at 5 am on Monday. Leave at six.
That's the new not-a-plan. Our crew is done with planning.