growing up blows

My face is chapped. Not only b/c its -20 degrees here, but from crying and weeping, laughing and then starting all over. Growing up sucks...donkey. I spent all day moving and packing (more) and getting closer to my moving date, which has seemed to put the clock on steroids. It’s hard to have all of the sad feelings of leaving home, going to an unknown – that sick, painful feeling of homesickness and hearing the same things echo in the voices of the people you love. Its hard to know that you're causing them pain. Granted, I would not feel better should they be partying and celebrating my leave. This is a part of moving on and of beginning a new life. Each time that I feel sad and take a step back to gain some perspective it remains perfectly clear that that this is the right decision. That doesn’t seem to ease the feelings of leaving.

My best friend Lynn and parents helped me pack today and its funny how much you learn about yourself from other people. I am something of a paradox. Lynn kept looking at me each time I came to check on her “area” of work and she would shake her head at me disappointedly. Apparently, not only do I have an imperfect system of organization as I first feared - it seems as though no such “system” exists. Interesting. Several boxes that I had thought were well packed, I was informed, were not at all packed well. In my mind nail polish, q-tips and TV remotes packed together makes perfect sense b/c that’s what one would find on a nightstand. After finding many items in multiplicity, Lynn said that if I bought any more packages of travel Kleenex she would, in fact, break my arms. I assume that if something is not readily found it’s something I should pick up the next time I’m out and about.

Things found in excessive quantity:

• Winter hats (I thought you could never have too many of these)
• Travel Kleenex (see above)
• Tubes of Neosporin (I am helplessly clumsy and hurt myself at least once a week)
• Hangers – approx. 300

I need help. This move will be good for me to relearn a care for my possessions. Right now, I appreciate that I have them but they’re not enough to tear me away from Gilmore Girl reruns.