the Dalaverse

Well, I'm doing much better packing-wise this time around. Last year, I had just about started on the bulk of my clothes at this hour; right now, the Jeep is already almost full. I had to bitch my dad out for daring to put the Yaffa block full of books and music in. They ride with me where I can keep an eye on them, thank you.

I don't know how to feel about all this. I've been going back and forth all day. Had two spontaneous bursts of crying, but also a giggle fit with Beth (first my mother had to go "Don't forget your pot!" meaning actual cookware, of course, but we cracked up all the same, and then when we were discussing weird child names: "These're mah kids Clothespin and Orangeina;" "Sunshine, Moonbeam, and Cloudburst;" "This is my son Pizzaman;" "My daughter Pink and my son Floyd;" etc.). At the very least, I'm in a better place emotionally than I was last year -- in ways that have nothing to do with moving -- and I know basically what to expect. Now I'm sitting here listening to Hootie and the Blowfish, which became my traditional packing music at some point last year -- and the folks are shouting at each other. Knew it was only a matter of time. Ah well, better them than me and my dad, because last year we weren't on speaking terms until we actually got to campus. I've been remarkably calm, really. I'm normally a horrible traveler. I freak out and I get unreasonably angry and yell at people for no good reason other than I'm upset and I know I won't catch any shit for it while I'm stressed out.

Mostly all that's left to pack is the computer and the breakable knicknacks, which go in my purse. Speaking of which, I transported my stuff into the purse I finally conceded to buy, and I am not happy. It looked big enough for a book in the store, but once I'd put everything in it, there was no longer any space. Plus it doesn't have enough pockets. Sure, the main part zips up and there's a little compartment for the cell phone, but where's my ticket stub pocket? My spare change pocket? My supersekrit pocket for my spare key and emergency tampax? Where's my pen-groove? My checkbook nook? Sigh. I did the best I could, but I'm asking for a proper purse for Christmas, even if I can't find one in the same style as the old one.

Alrighty. Wake-up call at 5:30, so I'd best get my ass to bed.