By the skin of my teeth

It is now 11.08pm. We have just finished playing the most hysterical game of Cranium- ( classic game - you have got to play it.) Sally and I have tummy aches from laughing with tears at Jeremy trying to hum " Some where over the rainbow." He is completely tone deaf.

Tomorrow I leave for India and the following day is the Welcome Ceremony for my yoga course. Everything is great, my bag is packed, but I have 2 problems.
I do not have a passport or a flight.

My passport is currently whizzing itself from England across to Singapore as fast as it's little legs will carry it. Please, please let it arrive by the morning. Why does everything always have to be by the skin of my teeth?