It's strange. On the car ride home I felt like I was a teenager. Fair enough that I've only been an adult for 7-and-a-bit months now. Maybe it's to do with the fact that I'll be spending the next year in Heidelberg rather than Aberystwyth, so I'll be reliving my experience as a fresher all over again. As a result I've had to pack everything and everything has been brought home. Just like moving house eh?
I haven't really unpacked very much.
I didn't really feel too willing to start packing yesterday...I kinda had to force myself to do it. I felt even more reluctant to finish packing this morning. I don't know what it is, I just didn't (still don't) feel ready to come home. It's not like I had a reason to stay there, my exams are over. And as I started my feeble amount of unpacking I felt that fear I usually get when going someplace new-that fear of uncertainty. Why was I feeling it then? It's the start of Summer, and a glorious start it was. Sun was out all day and it was warm...
What broke me out of that morbid, timid frame of mind was trying to find a suitable place for certain (thermal) gear and I find a cupboard containing the crappiest clothes of my teens. Why the hell was I keeping the ugly bright green zipped cardigan? Or the old dance class uniform? Wasn't I 14 when I stopped dance class? I mean...why?
I suppose I considered clearing it out last Summer but I had such little time. (I felt I had little time more like-such a lazyass I am.) So while I have a minimal list of things to do I think clearing out my junk is urgent. It's easy: take something you don't want and dump it in the old clothes plastic crate Mum keeps in the linen cupboard.