packing, and packing, and more packing

Turns out, I have a LOT of stuff.

This whole furnishing an apartment thing? Breeds stuff like Mid-Century reupholstered blondwood rabbits.

Also, my back is flaring up. Which means I took some diazepam and ibuprofen a little bit ago and am feeling quite delightfully loopy. That should last for about an hour or so.

Then I need to have lunch, do a cull, and then go have my farewell drinks with friends late this afternoon/evening.

Oh, and although I have been very good about compartmentalizing everything in order to deal with all the changes going on, my walls fell down a bit yesterday: I wibbled at people.

Wibbled.

I don’t usually wibble. I natter. God knows, I natter. But wibble? Oh dear.

Yeah.

A friend talked me down, which was good. Because I really shouldn’t wibble.

I’m sure it will be amusing in a couple of weeks or months.

Surely.

But yeah, between us: I’m kind of freaking out. My life is utterly changing. I’ve been living in San Francisco for seven years. I’ve become accustomed to a nicely comfortable bourgie decadence. And now I’m running away for a Bohemian summer and a return to school. It’s been long-planned, sure, but holy crap: it’s happening.

Clearly, a minor freakout (and some wibbling) is called-for.

That said, I am SO looking forward to it.

Yosemite
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