Skiftiness

True to rotary form, no one told me I was moving until this Wednesday. I had foreseen it of course; itís been along time coming. Iíve talked to my next host family an astounding five minutes total this whole year, but itís been like that with all of them so far. Almost like they want to keep it a surprise. But, as any dutiful exchange student, I began my preparations. For me this meant extreme amounts of procrastination. Luckily I had Friday off from classes, so after waking up, I began the task of self-eviction.

Its amazing, in such a little amount of time, how much can be acquired. Most of this is paper, documents, homework (whatís that???) etc. I find it utterly amazing as well, how rooted you become in the room where you have slept for the last couple of months. Pulling CDs I thought I had lost out from under my bed, finding beer bottles behind the closet (I swear theyíre not mine, honest!).

And of course, just when you think you are done, a couple more shirts end up left out of the suitcase. Iím sure we all know the feeling of pounding on a suitcase trying to make everything fit, in a moment of sheer bronze I managed to break a zipper and send myself flying across the room.

So, now Iím almost completely out, a few last things to cram somewhere right before leave, heading off the country again, no more city life for me.

The great irony of it all is that, as soon as I get all my stuff to my next host family, I immediately have to unpack, only to repack for a week in Malta with my class, for which I leave the day after arriving.

Well, Iíve got a fourth of a bottle of Vodka left, and I sure as hell donít want to pack it along, so I might as well enjoy it.

Tyer Durden

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