We had decided definitely we weren't going to Sectionals, but the decision was nagging at me. Or more like haunting me. In fact, I had a dream that Mik was standing in his room in utter despair, sobbing. That was the entire extent of the dream.
(Not that Mik was throwing a big fuss over this. He qualified, then qualified two more times for good measure, let us know he wanted to go, asked about it once, and then let it drop. He's awesome like that.)
Yesterday the coach called to see what we were doing, and I found myself starting the decision-making process all over again. I decided to pretend that we had decided to go, and see how that felt for a while. It turned out that that decision—despite all the logistics that needed to be worked out, the days off school (probably three, not two), the lost income, the long drive, the gas, the Seattle traffic, the eating out—was much less stressful for me.
So we talked it over some more and we're going. Maybe we'll go to fewer out-of-town meets in the next year to offset the cost or something. I still don't know if it's the right decision, but I feel pretty serene about that fact that at least it's not the wrong decision. Raise your hand if that last statement made sense.