I think I might end it with boy. Fuck.
Anyway. Four days.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Come out of the question with me
It seems my pre-departure anxiety has reached the won't-let-me-sleep stage. That, and my damn cat keeps attacking my feet. Either way, it's 1:30 and, even though I got very little sleep last night, I've been up, tossing and turning. Oh, lordy. Thank goodness for Sleepytime tea. (Tea! See, I'm practicing!)
So, other than the actual putting-stuff-in-suitcase part, I'm just about ready. I finally have my visa, my drugs, a little bit of money (and one last paycheck on the way!) and information about where to go and when. Now I have plenty of time to sit around and fret and run through all the things I might forget and panic because surely I'm missing something... I wonder why I can't sleep.
Now that my hot tea has caused my body temperature to rise to an unbearable level, one which surely will not tolerate blankets or head-hugging pillows or warm kitties, I'm going to try going back to bed. Because that's not destined to fail.
'Night, buddies.
So, other than the actual putting-stuff-in-suitcase part, I'm just about ready. I finally have my visa, my drugs, a little bit of money (and one last paycheck on the way!) and information about where to go and when. Now I have plenty of time to sit around and fret and run through all the things I might forget and panic because surely I'm missing something... I wonder why I can't sleep.
Now that my hot tea has caused my body temperature to rise to an unbearable level, one which surely will not tolerate blankets or head-hugging pillows or warm kitties, I'm going to try going back to bed. Because that's not destined to fail.
'Night, buddies.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
London Calling...
What up, bitches! I'm leaving in one week! Woo! Exclamation point!
I haven't started packing yet, about which I am oddly not as stressed as I should be, but other than that I think I'm pretty ready to go. Except I also have no idea what to do as soon as I get off the plane... where do I go? I'm not even sure where in London, exactly, my house is in. I'll figure it out, though.
I really, really, REALLY wanted to come visit y'all before I leave, but that's obvs not going to be a possibility now. I hope that doesn't mean that everyone will totally forget me. Who am I kidding, I'm unforgettable! I'm Fatty! (Let's hope that name doesn't somehow find it's way to England. It stays withing the Five College (and sometimes Barnard, and my house) Bubble! Though, I don't think those refined Brits would ever refer to anyone in such a crass manner.)
So currently I have no real news to report. I'm just trying to get my shit together in my last week, which involves fighting with many medical personnel to get enough of my happy drugs for the whole trip (apparently I can't just show up at a London "chemist" and demand they give me drugs...), and spending time with The Boy. (I chose the most inconvenient time to find a boy. Especially since I had pleasant visions of snagging myself some hot European boy-meat, and now that's all shot to hell. Fucking feelings, getting in the way...).
So the countdown officially begins - eight days.
I hope things are going swimmingly for you buddies, and I miss you like Wilford Brimley misses cookies.
LOVE!
I haven't started packing yet, about which I am oddly not as stressed as I should be, but other than that I think I'm pretty ready to go. Except I also have no idea what to do as soon as I get off the plane... where do I go? I'm not even sure where in London, exactly, my house is in. I'll figure it out, though.
I really, really, REALLY wanted to come visit y'all before I leave, but that's obvs not going to be a possibility now. I hope that doesn't mean that everyone will totally forget me. Who am I kidding, I'm unforgettable! I'm Fatty! (Let's hope that name doesn't somehow find it's way to England. It stays withing the Five College (and sometimes Barnard, and my house) Bubble! Though, I don't think those refined Brits would ever refer to anyone in such a crass manner.)
So currently I have no real news to report. I'm just trying to get my shit together in my last week, which involves fighting with many medical personnel to get enough of my happy drugs for the whole trip (apparently I can't just show up at a London "chemist" and demand they give me drugs...), and spending time with The Boy. (I chose the most inconvenient time to find a boy. Especially since I had pleasant visions of snagging myself some hot European boy-meat, and now that's all shot to hell. Fucking feelings, getting in the way...).
So the countdown officially begins - eight days.
I hope things are going swimmingly for you buddies, and I miss you like Wilford Brimley misses cookies.
LOVE!
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