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Type-A personalities like me get a bad rap. Not only do we tend to be anal and controlling, but we are also over-anxious and very particular about certain things. Case in point: I love my Smartwater and I refuse to share it with anybody, not even my husband. It's mine and that's just the way it is.

So this trip to Spain next week finds me in Type-A overload. I've been planning my wardrobe for weeks. I've been mentally packing and re-packing my suitcases and carry-on bags. I've been carefully considering ways to keep myself entertained on the plane (just the right books, magazines, games and music to keep me occupied for eight hours). I've planned an in-flight menu of just the right foods and beverages (since no one feeds you on the plane anymore). I've made lists of the lists I need to make so that I don't forget anything.

And I am determined not to lose anything of value overseas. I read online that American tourists are typically targeted for thefts, so yesterday, I became obsessed with various decoy devices and throw-away items that I would not miss if stolen (yes, it is that crucial). I bought a fake pleather wallet-pursey thing to keep my stuff. I also bought a new CD holder so that I could keep better track of my CDs (not that anything was ever wrong with the other three CD holders we already have), and I spent all day burning copies of CDs so that I don't travel with the originals.

Yep, I'm a classic basket case. The trip that is supposed to help me relax has only increased my stress.

Last night I nearly lost my mind because I could not find my passport a week before my departure. To say that this was the King Kong of meltdowns would not be an exagerration. I seriously thought that forces were conspiring to make me crazy, and that I would be carted off to an asylum.

Of course, I had not lost the passport, I had put it away in a "safe place". That safe place happened to be an actual safe, the very one that stays empty and unused about 95% of the time. I only checked in there after I had gone through every piece of paper on my very cluttered desk about five times, screamed at my husband, and swore to God about 100 times that I had not moved the passport from the desk drawer where I had been keeping it since October when it was issued.

With the passport drama over, now the next dilemma is my ticket. It was issued in my husband's name, only I never changed my last name upon marriage, so we've been waiting for nearly three weeks to get this resolved. Why not just reprint the damn thing, you ask? Because that would be too easy. Air France is requiring a copy of the marriage license and a copy of the aforementioned passport as proof of my real name.

In a post 9/11 world, it should be expected that I would be subjected to intense scrutiny, but before I even get to the airport?

We'll see how this wrinkle gets ironed out. In the meantime, I need to go buy some more plastic baggies because I bought the wrong size yesterday and I need them for double-bagging my toiletry items :)

Yes, it is that crucial...