The packing is finished, with deepest thanks to Jin and Travis, without whom I would have been caught metaphorically somewhere between a chicken sans tete and a deer in headlights. If I haven’t by now sorted out what I need for the next four weeks, I’ll just have to make do; if I’ve chosen to bring too much with me, I’ll have to sell it on the streets when it gets there. As Travis said, perhaps I’ll make some new friends that way… “wanna buy a bookcase?” Men will come to pack and take my things in just a few hours, and in the days that follow, my friends will take what’s left or help me put it in storage. It’s beginning to set in, and with it, the panic is slowly (oh so slowly) morphing into excitement and anticipation: I’m moving to London!
The real setting-in moment tonight was when my cat moved to my mom’s house. It’s true that I’m not just leaving her – I feel the same ache for mom and my friends, whom I adore and whom I can’t possibly thank enough for all the love, support and (most of all) tolerance, but to leave the kittenhead is the closest thing I can fathom to leaving a child. As a result of the fact that she’s a tiny fuzzy creature with no opposable thumbs, she can’t send email. Or perhaps she can. I did get an email earlier complaining that she was annoyed with her new home because she fell into the trash can whilst trying to get up on the counter. I’m hoping she’ll keep sending me stuff on the sly. I’ll miss her, and everyone else, more than I can say.
But hey, kitten? Try not to fall into the trash again, OK? It’s just not dignified.
In other news, the Pixies show last night was absolutely amazing. More on this later, when I have the presence of mind to string two thoughts together. In the meantime, thanks to all who have been kind and tolerant and supportive and forgiving. I’ve been coming apart at the seams a little, I know. But I promise, it’s all for a good cause.
Dang, this blog is getting sappy.