Four plane rides, eight forty-hour work weeks, three sunburns, two tans, and fifty mosquito bites later, I am seventy-two hours away from my car ride back to Baltimore. I’ve started putting together my things for the trip back, and I’m hoping to have all of my things in a neat little pile by the end of the day tomorrow. I’m anxious and excited, both mourning the end of my summer and willing the fall semester to come sooner.
Floating in the pool for hours, drinking smoothies, and being touristy in the Florida Keys was the perfect way to give the summer the respect it deserves and grant it a proper goodbye, but with my final hours of being in New York quickly approaching, it’s time to take care of business.
I’ve got laundry that needs doing, shoes that need packing, and textbooks that need renting. Naturally, here I am on this lazy summer morning, blogging in my room and accomplishing none of these things. The reason for my lack of productivity is simple: I’m a perfectionist, which means that once I start putting my things together to load into the car (the worst part of packing, in my opinion), it’s going to take me hours. It will be systematic, tedious, and stressful because I make it that way. There will be checklists, and there will be hard-earned money spent in boring, uncreative ways (like detergent and disinfecting wipes). There will be rushes of panic where I realize that there are things I need to dig up in the garage or pray that they are somewhere in the depths of the trash bags that I left in my cousins’ house in Silver Spring.
Packing is stressful. What if I forget my contacts?
Before I let the landslide of what-ifs take over, I remind myself that going back to school lets me see my friends, get back into a routine, start creating new memories, and seek new adventures. Another wave of “fall-come-sooner” hits me. I look at my laundry, the date, and my mess of things waiting to be packed, and it’s a wave of “summer-don’t-go” that swiftly follows.
Being a sophomore comes with its advantages though. I know now that if I’m not going to wear that shirt at home, taking it to school with me will not magically make me want to wear it. If I don’t read my high school year book at home, it can stay in storage. Lastly, and the most painful to admit, taking forty photos from high school to hang on the walls is just expensive — developing photos and buying the Command adhesive — you’re at college to make new friends and memories, so why bog down my room with photos from what was practically a different life? Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed high school, so it’s important for me to save some of those memories. I’ll still be bringing the Polaroids I’ve taken over the past two years, but anything more just isn’t worth it.
So cheers to a roomier car and a slightly shorter unpacking period! Another year older, another unpacking experience wiser.