As my move to London has been delayed I find myself rearranging furniture, thinking about painting the walls, organizing and baking things like bread and pastry from scratch. Of course none of this makes sense as my move date is literally days, not weeks or months, away. All I can figure is that the female parts of my brain are on Martha Stewart hyper drive. MUST MAKE HANDICRAFTS. MUST COOK FOR NONEXISTENT FAMILY. MUST ATTACH RANDOM BRIGHTLY COLORED THINGS TO SHINY SPARKLY DOODADS WITH GLUE GUN. They say women nest when they move into a new home. They pull things out , rearrange them, and make it theirs. Maybe my body is trying to re-nest in this place as it’s been in the middle lands for too long? Perhaps my lady parts will go on strike if I don’t have a permanent home base soon.
I’ve semi stopped sleeping. Everyday i think the mail man will deliver my visa and I’ll be able to finally wrap everything up. Obviously he’s not going to come in the middle of the night, but apparently my body is having trust issues.
