With more anxiety and stress comes more blog updates. Shorter, I hope. I have been told that will attract more readers. I'm also hoping it attracts more sleep on my end.
Last night, I slept in my bed for the last time. I know it's silly, but I'm rather attached to that bed. I bought it last October, about a month before I even considered moving abroad, and it was quite the investment. I thought a solid bed might help with my sleeping problems and I think it worked (most of the time). I'm giving it to my brother and I don't expect to sleep in it again until I return to the United States for good, if then.
I could have slept in it for another week, but a friend suggested I move home and treat packing like a daytime job. The clutter of a half-packed apartment was closing in on me and I felt a bit like an A&E reality-show-in-the-making. I was, again, having trouble sleeping. So, this morning, my brother and I brought a few bags to my parents' house and I make-shift moved into the guest bedroom.
I became slightly concerned when I grabbed all of my clothes, still with hangers on, and added them to my suitcase, which was already filled with clothes from my cleaned-out dresser. "Surely I'll need another bag," I thought. Alas, no, all of my clothes fit hangers-on into my suitcase. Which makes me wonder if I have too few clothes or too large of a suitcase. I have a smaller suitcase with toiletries (one of everything) and teaching materials. I'll have an overnight bag with a few days of clothes to take as a carryon, and a backpack with all of my electronics. Honestly, packing for Egypt is the easy part. Making sure my apartment is ready for the movers in a week has proven a much more stressful task. I would be totally screwed if it weren't for my brother coming over while I'm at the theater and piling my entire kitchen and several pieces of furniture into his truck to take to his new apartment. Thanks to him, I feel a sense of progress.
Moving home is good. Not that the house means that much to me--my parents bought it when I was in college. We moved around quite a bit when I was growing up, so I rarely get attached to structures. Though the furniture, set-up, and location has changed, home is where my parents are. Where I can yell my mom's name and she responds. Where I can hear my dad walking in the kitchen. Where we can sit and watch "The Newsroom" as a family and pause it every five seconds to discuss.
Tomorrow, I have a plan, and because I'm here, it doesn't seem quite so overwhelming. Walls, curtains, buffet and living room. I need to try to get a lot accomplished before I go back to work on Tuesday.