Moving is ridiculous. (Tucson Edition)

Thursday was Canada Day, and it was also July 1st. I was in the throes of nationalist euphoria, and panicking at the thought of moving across the country in approximately one month. As I stood alone in the house, looking around at all the crap I owned, July 14th (departure from Tucson) and August 1st-ish (departure from AZ) started to seem a hell of a lot closer. I needed to get organized. I needed to pack. That’s when I turned into this.

I cleaned and packed from 5:30 P.M. until midnight. I forgot to eat dinner. The only break I took was to call seven or eight people regarding the LIVE LIZARD I found in my closet.

I’m blaming my rampage on my need to assert control over an increasingly uncertain life. The more questions I have about my future — Where am I going to live? How am I going to find a job? How am I going to eat? How is my DOG going to eat??? — the more I feel the need to get organized, to write more, to learn how to cook, to read the twenty or so books I own that I’ve never read before.

I’m also increasingly anxious to get out of Tucson. Some days I feel like I should be savoring my last little bit of time here, and reflecting fondly on the past few years of college and other nonsense. But honestly, this town is depressing! It’s going to be hard to miss the place where this happened.

Plankton’s last stand. (Just kidding, I still drive the shit out of that car.)

I suppose 20 years from now, I’ll regret being so eager to leave the place that was my home for the last four years. At this point, however, I’m so excited to go to Phoenix for two weeks and have my dad yell at me about the Russian spies, my sister lecture me on feminist theory, and my mom badger me about sunscreen, that I could get offered a million-dollar raise at work and a lifetime supply of beer from Gentle Ben’s and I’d STILL be like “Smell you later, Tucson!!!”

The point is, I’m really really ready to move on. Even if it means never getting breakfast at The Hungry Fox again. YEAH, I SAID IT.

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