Too Many Flies

I’m sitting outside in the rain, listening to cow bells and trying not to get my slippers wet. Chef Doug, Dede, and Skipper all left this morning, and I am now left chillin’ with a crippled Dr. Sylvia, in Sorenberg. I worked a full week last week, and started to move out furniture and start sorting through my things. Luckily my very tolerant (minus Dede who rightfully put me in my place yesterday, who I then rightfully wanted to punch afterwards) are hauling my wardrobe, collection of journals, books, dvds and comforters, back to California for my ever nearing arrival. I don’t know what it is about moving that turns me into the ungreatful-bitch-from-hell, but in my heart I am truly aware of how awful I am and how loving and patient my family and friends are (thanks guys).

So I am now left with less then three weeks at my work, and then a nice month of traveling, smoking, and basking in my last few moments over here. I plan on making the most of it and really just absorb the beauty that Switzerland and Europe afford me. Although I am at peace with leaving, I don’t really galvanize at the thought of my move back home (or at least not at this very moment, I have been really flip-flopping on the whole thing lately). This whole moving back in with my parents, not having a job, but having bills to pay, the whole been-gone-for-five-years thing, it’s all just a bit daunting. On the other hand, the whole concept of having a fresh start and having an actual trade, is pretty damn cool. I am a huge pussy when it comes to fearing the unknown.