my elusive flatmates are departing. another one disappeared today. she took with her the rice cooker and left behind an bin overflowing with rancid veg and a stove-top covered in oil. it is a parting gift to me, I believe; her way of saying "thanks for taking out my trash all year. since you seem to enjoy dragging ripped bags full of food you wouldn't dream of touching even in non-rotted form down three flights of stairs and out to the dumpster, here is a little bit more. just for you. and here are some extra oil splatters for you to scrub off the wall, since I know you love doing that too, especially because you've never in your life cooked anything more complicated than mashed potatoes and thereby have no grease of your own to clean. and because I am so generous, I will even leave you a couple splotches of Undisclosed Brown Substance on the kitchen floor. one splotch. two splotch. three splotch. four."
I leave too, soon. next week I join the great sheffield student housing shuffle and move halfway across the city to another flat, where I will stay for the next six weeks. my new home will be right across the street from the devonshire cat, a favourite local pub that boasts 99 kinds of beer and my favourite fish and chips in all of england.
I will miss my not-so-little room. I will miss my ensuite bathroom. I will miss the time I will spend next weekend packing instead of climbing or hiking or eating takeaway curry or analysing sound data or doing any one of a million other things that aren't packing. and I will miss sleeping, because that's what happens when the time comes for me to pack up my life. I always leave it to the last possible minute, it always takes twice as long as I anticipate and sleep is always what I have to give up. which is why it is currently 2:30 in the morning and I am still awake. I'm practicing. practicing leaving things till the last minute and practicing not sleeping. soon, I will be an expert in both.