And Preparing, oh my.
Anyone who has known me for a few weeks, or at least has been inside my apartment, knows about my tendencies to hop on the planned-spontaneity train and get easily excited about, well, anything. Lately I have been funneling some of this energy into various Facebook groups and pages: ones set up by the Erasmus Mundus programme to group different sets of incoming students together, and various Asheville circles created to sell things (buy my couches?). In the former I have put forward perhaps 10% of the multitude of questions swimming around my brain, regarding everything from where everyone is living, to cell phone plans, to anyone wanting to join me in Munich for Oktoberfest. In the latter… I’m still trying to sell my couches.
“Planned-spontaneity” may not make sense to most of you. It’s a prime example of an oxymoron, but it’s also very much how I’ve been living my life. I fly by the seat of my pants — after using different travel search engines, checking reviews, making a spreadsheet, and buying the most economical ticket.
I get enthusiastic about things (and people) quickly, but I’m not one to make rash decisions. Sure, they seem wholly out of the blue, but really I stew on things for ages before I pull anything out of the oven (enough metaphors for you)?
Basically, I’m getting incredibly excited about what is coming. Naturally there is a little anxiety in there, feelings of apprehension at once again sharing a kitchen with a dozen different people, and at finding the most efficient way to get to class on time whilst at the same time maximizing the amount of time spent in my bed.
Yet overall, I’m just ready to get there. To get to my new home and make it feel like a home.
With that comes the unpleasant activity of packing. I truly feel as though my last few weeks have been spent doing nothing but packing, working, and drinking (and frankly, that’s not far from the truth). I’ve never been a fan of puzzle games like Tetris, but after packing and unpacking my apartment in waves, my car a multitude of times, and then trying desperately not to entirely takeover the guest room at my parents’ house, I feel like I’m pretty much a pro at the puzzle stuff.
Speaking of my parents, my dad and his wife (my stepmom, but she’s basically my mother) have been amazing at the extent to which they have been willing to help me over the past several days (and, well, years). Sure, I’d thought of the powerstrips and plugs and such I needed to obtain — I do not want a repeat of Swansea, during which my old laptop’s motherboard fried after only a couple of weeks — and the vacuum bags I can use to help packing for the Scandinavian winter months a little easier, but there have been a great deal of things I have not considered.
Does Denmark sell the cosmetics or other supplies I use there? What about buying extra contacts? Should I try to pack pillows? What is more economical to bring there versus to buy there?
While I was debating how best to pack my hula hoops, Debbie was thinking what I would need in my kitchen. And thank goodness for that.
So hopefully in the next few days I will get my bags packed up without too much stuff inside, and without too many tears shed over frustrating zippers. And extra double-checking that my niece doesn’t try to fit herself into a duffle bag.