So I’m headed to France in a little over one week, and am alternately super-psyched, nervous, thrilled, stressed to the max, giddy with excitement, and worried. While part of me cannot WAIT to board that Iberia flight headed for Europe, my evil twin fears that I’ll spend all those trans-Atlantic hours obsessing about … STUFF.

Will my limited French-speaking skills make me feel (literally) like the “village idiot” when I get to Samois-sur-Seine, the picturesque place south of Paris where I’ll be living? Will I find enough freelance writing and consulting work to keep me challenged—but not so much that I end up overstretched and fall back into my workaholic ways? Will I finally meet a decent man who is what he claims to be—or will the language gap (and his sure-to-be-charming French ways and accent) make it that much tougher to figure it out?

When you decide to pull up stakes and move by yourself to the other side of the world, the tasks you need to handle before leaving home are LEGION. Everything from dealing with bank account transfers, long-stay French visa applications, endless doctor-dentist-optometrist visits, prescription orders, searching for international health insurance, laptop backups—not to mention the terribly stressful task of sorting, packing, and storing. What do I need to carry in the three suitcases I’ll take with me to France? What needs to be boxed up and shipped by the U.S. Post Office—and when? What needs to be banished to storage—and what do I need to get FROM storage and send overseas? It’s enough to make a chica lose her ever-lovin’ mind! (Usually, I just stop thinking about it and take a nap.)

I’ve even spent early Chicago mornings on Skype, calling black hairstylists at Parisian salons to find out if they can handle my hair while I’m in France. You UrbanTravelGirls KNOW there’s NO way a sister’s heading overseas without figuring out on the front end what she’s going to do with her ‘do!

If all this wasn’t enough, I needed to make an American Airlines “mileage run” out to San Francisco and back last Friday—all in one day. I know it sounds crazy, but I needed about 3,500 extra airline miles to maintain my elite status on American, which will be especially important next year when I’m traveling internationally—so I flew from Chicago O’Hare to San Fran Friday morning and less than two hours later jumped on a flight back home. I’m often rushing when I get to the airport and ALWAYS overpack, so I need the perks that come with being a “Gold” flyer—being able to check in at the always-shorter First and Business Class lines, to get on standby lists for earlier flights, to check bags for free. (Of course, it would be way easier to earn benefits without leaving the ground by racking up miles with something like an Aeroplan credit card that hooks you up with flight rewards, access to worldwide airline VIP lounges, and lets you sprint through priority check-in at airports. But that would be simple—and as you can tell, “simple” seems to be against my religion!)

I’m one of those strange people who actually ENJOYS moving—and I should, as I’ve lived all over the United States because of various newspaper reporting and corporate jobs. In the past, I’ve loved the process of researching where I’m going (it’s the journalist in me, I’m sure). Meeting new people. Starting a new routine. Discovering all the great things about my new surroundings. Maybe I’m getting older, but relocating is not nearly as easy-breezy as it used to feel. (Perhaps it just seemed way simpler because my corporate employers often were footing the bill for the entire move, complete with packing and unpacking all the stuff I transported back and forth across the country. Hmmm….)

But what I’m trying to remember—and take time for—during this hectic move-to-France process are PEOPLE. What I’m regretting is that I won’t have time to grab coffee, sit down over drinks, or relax over lunch or dinner with many of the folks that I’m truly going to miss during my time in Europe. Where I can, I’m trying to catch them at their offices—or even during workday coffee or smoking breaks—rather than miss seeing them at all. And with Christmas falling just before I leave—and many pals already heading home for the holidays—I’ll have to meet up with these travelers next year during my visits back home.

Before I moved to Florence, Italy, back in 2004, some of my good girlfriends threw a fabulous “Buon Viaggio” party for me at one’s downtown condo—and I got to say arrivederci to dozens of friends, colleagues and relatives at one time. But I didn’t want any such farewell for France (to me, it’s like I already had the big church wedding with the white gown … no sense in doing that twice!). So I’m hoping that when folks make their way to Paris or elsewhere in the French Republic, they’ll let me know in advance and we’ll get together on the other side of the pond instead.

Now THAT’S a rendezvous to get excited about!