packing

After two days of packing up my life into every kind of receptacle I own, and then some, I am terarful, shattered, and quite ridiculous. I do not find the process of packing to be in itself enjoyable, time consuming and grinding as it is, especially given the INCREDIBLE AMOUNT OF STUFF I seem to have accumulated in a year and a half. And, it is a sad thing to be saying goodbye to my apartment. It has been my safe haven and I am attached to it. Worst, it reminded me very much of packing up my various university rooms, and the feelings of everything being all over the place and not being ready to go and having to say goodbye to people, whether just for a holiday or for ever. I am only going to Chicago for six days, but the illusion of leaving is sustained by the fact that I really have had to say goodbye to two of my friends, who are going back to Germany today.

Fortunately, my friend Victor was around last night to play the role of my dad - arriving before everything was packed, washing up the dishes in the sink, making expressions of horror at all the crap, packing the contents of my kitchen cupboards into boxes and bags, carrying boxes to the car... the works. This did make the whole thing even more emotionally weird, but I couldn't have done it without him. The only difference is my dad would get cross and shouty, whereas Victor remained lovely thoughout. The man may well be a saint, as evidenced by the fact that he drove away two full carloads of my crap, one on Sunday and one yesterday - and I mean full, the passenger seat and everything - and carried it all into his house himself, where he's going to look after it until I get a new apartment.

Meanwhile I swore at things and laughed hysterically and had hissy fits and cried in the manner of the loon I am. The following is a sample dialogue:
Me: Do you hate me? (for the twenty-fifth time that evening)
Victor: Yes (for the twenty-fifth time that evening) *smile*
Me: *cry*
Victor: Don't cry. Why are you crying?
Me: sniff... I don't deserve you... sniff
Victor: You're emotional.
Me: I always am.
It really doesn't sound any less pathetic in Spanish.

And this morning I packed an amazing amount of last few things and left some in a friend's house on campus and some in my office, and transferred things off the work computer I was borrowing and backed things up and kept a taxi waiting, and kept the friends waiting who were giving me a lift to the airport and struggled to hold back the tears and BLOODY HELL I need a holiday now....

I am in the airport, buying expensive internet, having remembered to write down everything I could want to know about Chicago except the address of the friend I am visiting...

Chicago, here I come!