well-dressed foolish ideas

Farewell parties are a fun, if not slightly drunken, affair. They also signal that there is not much time left in which one can attempt to get their shit together before all of that time runs out and leaving is upon them. It's like Tom Bombadil went and sped up time, just to spite me. Or it was a swift kick in the ass, but nonetheless, there appears to be no time left for a little bit of relaxing and for-god's-sake getting over this stupid cold I've had for 2 weeks now. Thankfully I'm nearly done with this whole packing thing and will only have to focus on giving my landlord the keys, returning my cable modem and repacking my suitcase. As if doing it once, wait, no twice, just wasn't enough, right?

My kitten is currently trying to get used to being around stuff that she's never before seen, so it's been a bit of a laughable few days. The slightest thing seems to make her hunker down and look terrified. A door being shut, the water heater firing up, someone putting a newspaper at the front door of the neighbor's flat. It's all really quite amusing.

The worst news of late is that I'm a bit in a bind. In all of this packing and rearranging I've gone and lost my lists of things to do. I know, right? That's super smooth.