I think pupster Max can, on some levels, tell I'm leaving soon. He's become my shadow recently, following closely on my heels and demanding more than the usual amout of attention. I think he can tell in some form of puppy subconscious that I am slowly, almost without my own knowledge, pulling away.
I am so sad to leave here, especially D., but I am excited to go. I've talked now extensively with both of my roommates and I like them well enough. I'll grow to like them even more once I'm up there, I think. We're working out kinks and logistics like "Who's bringing the refrigerator?", and "Who's got the TV?" It's a weird, foreign life to which I am moving, a life into which I will be plunging headfirst come August 30.
But I will leave a large part of myself here, down in the south, where people say "y'all" and 99% of my friends are conservative. I'll leave a part of myself in D., my best friend in the entire world. I'll leave a part of myself in pupster Max and sweet Lulabelle (who can now say "A bird in the hand is smarter than George Bush"). I'll bury a chunk of me in my bedroom, surrounded by so many books that I want to take but don't have the room for. And Damien? My wild stallion of a Volvo with his out-of-place liberal bumper stickers? Oh, I'll miss him, too.
And the thought of being almost 2,000 miles away from my immediate family...I am nervous, but excited. I know I'm ready.