Seven Days

So it's down to seven. Seven days until I fly off to Jolly Old England. Seven days of cleaning, packing, trying to sort out which books I want to keep and which books I want to take, sorting, re-packing, saying goodbyes, re-re-packing, trying to finish seeing/doing everything I want to see/do, and, oh yeah, packing again.

Should be fun.

I am currently seated in a coffee shop in Minneapolis, eating a meatloaf sandwich with ketchup and mayo, and drinking coffee. I'm not procrastinating, it's a see/do thing. Procrastinating doesn't come till a much later stage. Ask Jo.

To review the past couple of weeks (three, I think) since my last post:

• I finally convinced the post office to start delivering my mail. No thanks to Dewayne, my carrier. "Dewayne: I huntd teh beez. pls leev mai mails. ktnxbye."
  
• Thanks mostly to Jo, I've received everything from Leeds that I needed to send in my visa application. Jo drove to Leeds to personally pick up the letter and overnighted it to me herself because Leeds can't do either. Beaurocracy will kill me.
• I sent in my visa application, and actually received my visa less than a week later. Apparently the British Consulate General was neither educated at Leeds nor worked for the U.S. Postal Service, and I am greatful for both. However...
• FedEx couldn't deliver the visa (and my passport and papers vital for my arrival in England) to my home because I was at work. Like I was every single day of the week. This was a Friday, so a "concerned" call from my "concerned" girlfriend convinced me to go pick up the envelope from the FedEx depot myself. I got there in the evening, only to find out that the truck carrying the envelope had gone out on a parcel-retrieval run. Oh goody. Waited for the truck to come back, picked up the envelope, thanked the workers there profusely, and then checked that the envelope actually contained the visa/passport/papers. In the parking lot.
• I bought tickets to England. I leave AREA NOT DISCLOSED the 12th (after deciding that flying the 11th was tempting Fate too much) and arrive in AREA ALSO NOT DISCLOSED on the 13th. And despite the departure being two and half weeks away, they were MUCH cheaper than I'd been expeting. Yay!

One downside to moving, besides self-induced stress due to procrastination, is a slight feeling of impending doom; the closer I get to something important, the more likely the Universe is to try is screw/kill me. I'm not sure if cosmic paranoia is a sign of mental deterioration, but if it is, don't tell anyone. Things have gone fairly smoothly so far, excepting the SNAFU with the bees/letter-from-Leeds thing/FedEx thing, but I'm becoming increasingly wary of animatronic seafood outside restaurants. (What is the irrational fear of being crushed by a large animatronic crab call? Aniostraconophobia?) The Air Force accidentally flying five nuclear weapons across the United States hasn't helped things any. Sigh.

On a brighter note, I'm finished with work, both jobs, all hours, day and night. It's been kind of nice to have three days together off; something I haven't experienced since Jo was out in July. I totally rock at days off; yesterday was productive, and I cleaned off my desk (for the most part) and even selected a box of books for sorting. This morning, pre-coffee-shop, I started sorting out the box and managed to select over a dozen books for redistribution. This is a major accomplishment for me, as I've been actively accumulating books for the past five years. I even skipped the Barnes and Noble downtown, where I really actually need to pick up at least one book. Oh well, the library is cheaper, and takes up less space in my suitcase. (This is a major concern; I think my suitcase has one more major move in it. England may have to become my permanent home chiefly because of this. They don't make suitcases in England.)

Left to go:

• Sort the other five boxes of books.
• Several trips to Good Will to donate approximately 3.7 cubic tons of clothing and books.
• Cleaning the hell out of my room. I think there's a spot of hell growing in the corner.

(It's like that joke:
Boy - Daddy, is it true that the Bible says that we come from dust?
Father - Yes, it does say that.
Boy - And does it say that when we die, we go back to dust?
Father - Uh, yes, it says that too.
Boy [pauses] - Um, okay. You'd better check under my bed then; there's someone either coming or going.)

• See friends before I leave. Saturday: party, my house, be there. (With a ten-point bonus if you know the reference.)
• Actually pack.

Oh goodness.


MN friends: Drop me a note sometime this week; we can still hang out, albeit briefly.
UK friends: Put the kettle on, I'll be there soon.

Peace,
Thom -->