Morning: “BoooOOooo-urns, I don’t want to go to work. These last 3 days are never going to end.”
Afternoon: “YAY! I only have to do this for another 3 days!”
Early Evening: “Packing?”
Evening (while looking at the catastrophic mess in my apt): “You mean I actually have to try to move all of this back into my folks house into my tiny little single sleeper room?”
Bedtime: “I’ll start tomorrow. There really isn’t THAT much stuff, right?”
I love living in downtown Toronto. Everything I could ever ask for is at my fingertips. There is a constant influx of people, a never ending list of new restaurants to try, a night life that will leave you asking for more, and enough shopping to leave you broke and penniless. It’s no wonder they call it “the mini New York.” I’ve lived here for about a little over a year now and I have not even begun to indulge in everything this beautiful city has to offer. So, it doesn’t come as a surprise that I have mixed emotions about leaving it behind. I’m happy because I get to embark on a new journey (with a temporary 4 month layover at my folks house), and I’m sad because I have made so many close connections here with both the people and city. Even though I’m only moving an hour away, visiting it and living in it are two completely different things.
I think the biggest difference will be the energy. Toronto is young, vibrant and constantly moving. My home town is…well….none of those things. I’m from
Dundas, a country town in which driving tractors instead of cars to high school was not uncommon. There are really only 2 things to do there: 1. retire (in a population of 20,000 we have around 6+ old age homes) or 2. get pregnant (we were mentioned once on David Letterman’s Top 10 for teenage pregnancy per capita. Thankfully, I managed to escape this statistic unscathed).
At least living in Dundas will give me plenty of time to unpack and then repack for my 2 week trip to Russia with my mother in September. Is packing really worth it then if all I’m going to do is repack again in another couple of weeks? Bah! I’m starting to dream about brown cardboard boxes! Not to mention that when I get back from Russia, I’m going to have to repack yet AGAIN for my transoceanic move!
What do I take? What do I leave behind? Do you think Luke will notice if I just slip another pair of shoes into that box over there? I often find that I convince myself that I will need to bring EVERYTHING I own with me. “Oooh, what is this miscellaneous item? I totally forgot I even had it. I’m bound to need it in England. ” [Puts in box] I am also finding that I get very attached to inanimate objects (sign of insanity maybe?). For example: the new tenant of my apartment has kindly offered me money for some of the furniture I own, including the air conditioner. Me talking to my air conditioner: “*cry* I’m sorry I have to leave you behind. I wish I could take you with me. *cry*”
I think I need to take the “maybe” out after “sign of insanity.”