The den is quiet and clean. The kitchen counters are clear, cleaned, patiently waiting to be crumbed and jammed again. Ani DiFranco is singing or speaking boldly from my little Netbook.
I just screamed when the postman slipped the post through the letterbox. Perhaps I'm more jittery than I'm allowing myself to believe - I'll keep up the denial, though. It's more comfortable. I don't want to leave this place that has provided a little comfort to my declining mind.
A few last moments of denial about all that's going to occur, about the next month and some of my life. 1 hour and 20 minutes until I board a coach and prepare for the trip - a bridge that deposits me on The Other Side, with deadlines, exams and dreaded new academic experiences. I'm not excited.
I'll probably keep screaming at the letters through the letter box; I need some way to release my fear at the Big Stuff without attacks of pent-up terror and rage. Here's to unravelling: Mistress Fate and Mademoiselle Past, shall we touch drinks? Cheers. Keep me afloat this time around, if you please.
My brain keeps singing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" to me. I daresay it's not out of joy or feeling particularly like an unfettered bluebird, but out of an optimistic hope to get back to that place where I fit best, somewhere in the land of colour....I'd like to get back to that place.
Now for a lie:
Harry Potter Personality Quiz by Pirate Monkeys Inc.