for real?

I shipped half of my worldly possessions to England yesterday. Now, $200 and 24 hrs later, no one can really tell me where they are. That's not entirely true. They know they are somewhere over the Atlantic and they know that they are not accompanied by the proper customs forms. Apparently, in the hour I spent filling out paper work at FedEx, it didn't occur to anyone to tell me one of those forms needed to be notarized. The very smart people employed at FedEx called me last night informing of the problem but went ahead and shipped them anyway before I got there this morning to fix it.
In theory it'll all be ok. Customs is done by random draw. If they don't pick mine to search, no worries. If they do, they will notice the lack of paperwork and hold my items "until they decide otherwise". I'm not sure what that phrase means, but I am scared it means I am never getting my stuff back.
This whole mishap has done more than aggravate me; it has made this whole "moving" thing real. I am actually leaving. In 17 days. Gone. I haven't been worried about it until now. I have been in the position (here in Dallas) of explaining my plan to Friends and family on a twice daily basis. The repetition has really drilled into my head the fact that I have no plan. None. Freaky.
I hope my stuff shows up. And I hope my life works out. My confidence is faltering, but for the time being it is still there. I am (somewhat) confident that this is a good idea.