The Waiting Game

I called this photo the waiting game, and that’s a game I’m also playing right now. Term is winding down and we’re in the “the days before all the exams come in” lull, which is usually a time for the tidying up of offices and loose ends etc. This year, for obvious reasons, times ten.

Today I went to the post office and filled out the forwarding form for my mail, and when I go shopping or ponder what to eat I’m in the territory where one needs to ask oneself every time “am I going to finish this before leaving”?

Like: if I open another bottle of wine, will I drink enough of it before I leave Flensburg? (Which actually tells you more about how little wine I drink at home than about my prospective departure date). I’ve run out of hot mustard, and am not going to open up another glass of it, as 80% of it would then go to waste. I’m also going to run out of cereal, most varieties of tea, … really soon now. And will need to eat a lot of rice in the coming days.

On that note: I’m so so so glad that I decided NOT to give up my flat. Just thinking that I could be spending these days frantically packing boxes and moving things into storage … no no no no no. This is much better. Maybe a little more expensive (and also maybe not, as taking things out would cost money, storage would cost money, moving into a holiday flat after returning would cost money, getting a new flat would… etc), but also a million times less stressful. Flat things are also all sorted out and taken care of, and I can leave knowing that both the flat and my things will be in good hands. Which is a relief.

I’m using the occasion of not-being-here for 7+ months to do some general sorting out of stuff, so there’s a trip to the local civic amenity center on my prospective schedule for Monday morning. I decided against touching the clothing I no longer wear at the back of the closet, though – they’re going to keep until October, and I’m busy enough without also creating a clothing avalanche in my bedroom. So paper and medication and stuff like that goes, trousers that no longer quite fit stay (they also might fit again when I return, depending on how many peanut butter cups I eat).

So I’m both busy preparing and working … and yet also biding my time, and it’s all a bit strange.