shortly

I'm heading over to the Greyhound station in three and a half hours. My counterpart was quite nice today but then he got really smarmy with me about something I didn't do and was never asked to do, so of course I'm probably done talking to him. Certainly I'll continue my usual dose of light-hearted comments about whatever, but I'm finished making conversation. He doesn't deserve it. Let him wallow in his solitude for the next three weeks. I don't care.

Besides that, I'm packed. I crammed everything I could think of into all my bags and tied all those together. It didn't take nearly as long as I thought it would, so that's pretty nice. I can't wait to be back on this bus, complete with even less personal space than I've usually had this summer, sharing an inch-wide arm rest with a hairy, perspiring obese man, or better yet: any kind of drowsy, gravity-battling old lady with halitosis. But all the while, they remain complete strangers, they do not follow me or demand anything from me, except perhaps a little fresh air and a few extra inches of seat space, and after only a couple hours, they are gone to where memories and weary travelers fade.

This feeling is indescribable. I do not want to make it so clear with my body language and expression that I have wanted nothing more than to leave for several weeks.

I'm so desperately excited and worried and overwhelmed that everything is going to take another dramatic shift. AHH!