So, I’ve left a message for my landlord saying that I’m leaving the property and got my plane reservations with Lufthansa. My visa and all the documents needed for it will be at my place this afternoon, and I’ve booked a stay at a hostel for six nights, hopefully giving me enough time to find a flat of my very own. I’ve even made dinner plans once I get there, as I will be meeting up with two friends I’ve known online for ages, and one of them will be in town from Germany, so I feel quite lucky to come in at such a time.
Now all that’s left is the damn packing.
It would be one thing if I was taking everything with me to London, but I’m not. I’ve rented out a storage unit here in town, and have begun filling it with things I won’t need in London (or at least I think I won’t need), along with care packages for myself when I get to London. These boxes are mostly filled with clothing and cookbooks or books on food that I may need for school. If you know me, you know I have a lot of clothes, so there are quite a few of these boxes already, and I’m not even done yet. I’ve labelled them so that if I ask my parents to send me, say, dresses, they can find one of the care packages with “dresses” listed in the contents and ship it to me. I’ve tried my best to include things like matching shoes and socks, along with some DVDs I may want to watch on my laptop when I get there and begin to get settled. I bought seasons 1 and 2 of Pushing Daisies, which has now been shoved into my box of linens to be sent. Granted, I can buy linens when I get there–and I will, as I’m not sending all of my bedding–but I’m cringing at the thought of having to outfit my future apartment all new stuff, nothing familiar. So, some of the familiar gets tucked away and stuffed in boxes to be sent to me across the ocean.
The rest stays behind, waiting to see what will happen once I settle in and begin school again.