The ball is rolling. My insane weekend is beginning. I get to drive 4.5hrs away, pack up my house, show it to potential subletters, throw a grand Bon Voyage party for myself, turn around, drive 4.5hrs back, and move in with my parents officially. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhck.
I don't have time for the theraputic catharsis that is staring at Henry Cavill at any point this weekend. Rookie Blue isn't on because of the NBA. Again. My 10-year College Reunion (i.e., my official excuse to return to NYC) is this weekend and I'll miss it. How the hell will I find the energy to officially admit defeat when I would rather curl up in bed and sleep the next three days away?!?? (Not that moving in with one's parents is any indication of failure as an adult. It just feels that way. Why is that, I wonder?)
There is one thing that will get me through the next 2 1/2 years. One light at the end of this crazy, dark, parent-filled, student loan-repaying tunnel:
Oh my city, I'm coming back for you. Keep a candle burning for me.