your roots are stuck in the dirt of this land
My, I've been active lately. If anyone asks, I'm blaming the swarm of bees that have taken up residence in my head and made it difficult to do anything that didn't involve starting to write short and really bad fanfics. Not finishing them, mind you.
I've moved out of my apartment. Had to, could hardly have kept it and gone to school. I'd have to sell myself into slavery to afford that, and then I'd have no use of either school or apartment. Anyway, it now means mum's house is filled with my junk stuff. Also that my back hurts from carrying bookshelves (the grand total of two) and my insanely heavy TV, since I wasn't allowed to tip it out the window.
But moving out of my first apartment rather pales in comparison to the nervous attacks I've been suffering the past month, ever since I realised what little time there was until I was starting school. In Skåne. Which is like a third of Sweden away.
Okay, I think I may be more worried about that it's Skåne I'm moving to, not the distance, as such. I must have been temporarily mad when I decided that.
I need surprisingly much with me there too. Clothes and bed sheets, and towels and books (four books, only four), laptop, dishes and cutlery, assorted pieces of junk I can't part with. Yeah, two big trunks full of stuff that are going to be nightmarish to drag anywhere. Small mercies for a mother with obsessive tendencies who can help with dragging.
I have to admit I really do not know how I'll survive a year away from my books. I had two nervous breakdowns after each other when I realised I couldn't bring even the ten I wanted, had to settle for four. Healthy.
Fingers crossed, I hope everything will go okay and I arrive in Skåne tomorrow, with everything I need.
And I'll have John Ajvide Lindqvist's Lilla Stjärna to read on the train!
//Clara, who will collapse of exhaustion tomorrow, having carried one trunk two metres
I've moved out of my apartment. Had to, could hardly have kept it and gone to school. I'd have to sell myself into slavery to afford that, and then I'd have no use of either school or apartment. Anyway, it now means mum's house is filled with my junk stuff. Also that my back hurts from carrying bookshelves (the grand total of two) and my insanely heavy TV, since I wasn't allowed to tip it out the window.
But moving out of my first apartment rather pales in comparison to the nervous attacks I've been suffering the past month, ever since I realised what little time there was until I was starting school. In Skåne. Which is like a third of Sweden away.
Okay, I think I may be more worried about that it's Skåne I'm moving to, not the distance, as such. I must have been temporarily mad when I decided that.
I need surprisingly much with me there too. Clothes and bed sheets, and towels and books (four books, only four), laptop, dishes and cutlery, assorted pieces of junk I can't part with. Yeah, two big trunks full of stuff that are going to be nightmarish to drag anywhere. Small mercies for a mother with obsessive tendencies who can help with dragging.
I have to admit I really do not know how I'll survive a year away from my books. I had two nervous breakdowns after each other when I realised I couldn't bring even the ten I wanted, had to settle for four. Healthy.
Fingers crossed, I hope everything will go okay and I arrive in Skåne tomorrow, with everything I need.
And I'll have John Ajvide Lindqvist's Lilla Stjärna to read on the train!
//Clara, who will collapse of exhaustion tomorrow, having carried one trunk two metres