My last few days at work were wonderful. I busied myself doing neither jack nor shit, and gleefully had the inner monologue of, "It's not my fucking problem anymore" whenever a coworker brought up a concern or an issue for the good of the order. In addition to the blissful lack of responsibility, my coworkers gave me a gorgeous send off in the form of an ice cream party (which is the best kind of send off) and my parents attended like adorable VIP guests. Everyone chatted happily with my parents and then shared nice things about me, which made me all blush-y and pleased. I felt the sense of pride and accomplishment I always had after parent-teacher conferences when my parents said that I had received nothing but words of praise from my teachers. Sometimes, though, when I'm the center of attention, I feel like an autistic person trying to learn and imitate the emotions of normal humans. While I was very, very touched, I didn't cry or anything, and I wonder if that offended people? I guess it would be worse to fake cry and be discovered. For the rest of the night, however, I wondered if everyone knew how much I appreciated them or if they thought I was being a smug little brat. For all my coworkers reading this, it was definitely the former! Also, I think I said "shit" in front of everyone, which really isn't that bad when you consider I frequently made the spider-man jerk off motion in the middle of meetings. Well, only the stupid ones. Shh, I'm a lady.
But, that brings me to now. Every time in my life before now when something has ended in May, it means that it's school ending, and I'm on summer vacation. This is not the case. School isn't ending, it's just starting...in less than two weeks. And in order to get to Johns Hopkins and begin this next stage in my life, I have to take the flotsam and jetsam of the past eleven dysfunctional months of my life, organize and categorize it, put it into boxes, and move it eight hours across the country. I am terrible at this, and it's worsened by the fact that I am just starting to feel settled and like I have friends here in Dayton--and now I have to leave. I don't know if I'm self unaware, because people have told me otherwise, but I don't think I'm great at meeting people and the nagging voice in my head keeps saying, "no one in Baltimore is going to like you" and I'm saying back, "Fuck. Are you serious?! Maybe I should just stay in Ohio then..."
Yesterday, my first day off of work, I was all gung-ho about packing and I got about three boxes in before I realized I didn't have any newspaper or tissue paper to wrap dishes or picture frames in--so my progress was halted. I decided to just wait until today and then really dig in, but as luck would have it-- today, I have no motivation. I am avoiding work in every possible procrastinate-y way. I slept in until eleven, and of course, then a trip to CVS was TOP priority. Then meeting a friend for lunch seemed really necessary, and then, in the process of packing up kitchen stuff I decided to make cookies so I went to Kroger to fetch the necessary accouterments. Really? And JHU thinks I'm smart enough to attend their illustrious institution. Well joke's on them.
Anytime a decision needs to be made in regard to packing, my decision is to defer to a REAL adult. Like, "Oh I'll ask Carrie and Ryan" or "I should just wait until my dad tells me how to pack the china." It dawned on me about the fourth time I decided to "wait" on something that it's actually my stuff and my apartment and I'm probably at least remedially capable of coming up with a solution or two.
I'll take some "after" pictures to show you all the boxes in my apartment, but right now it's barren but still messy and cluttered, which is a losing combination if I've ever heard of one. Wish me luck, guys!