7 days to go

Time has figuratively flown by. Not too long ago it seemed as though school would never start and I would be taking prerequisites until Britney was respectable, and then things just seemed to change (Britney remains immutable however) to me packing up all my worldly possessions, which are encroaching on Buddhism they are so spartan. I have officially passed through the 'its never going to get here' phase into the 'Hunter Thompson on an ether binge what the hell am I doing' phase. I am hoping to settle somewhere in between in the coming weeks, but there will be a lot to adjust to. I will be moving to a new city where I know few people and have a less firm grasp on the layout than our president does of the English language. School freaks me out. Partially because I have not been in school for such a long time and partially because there will be no courses that are 'known' to me. No English. No Social Studies. No Quantum Physics (checking to see if you are paying attention). It will be a challenge and wholly foreign. Exciting yes, but also incredibly daunting. Just the same, I am glad I am taking the plunge. I have never been one to be moored in one harbor for long, my path changing directions more frequently than Paris changes BFFs. I do hope this is it. If not forever, for at least a good long while. I will be shocked if, at the end of this year, I fall in like with Rochester considering my distaste of cold, grey winters (or wet ones for that matter), but who knows. Maybe I will find myself drawn into the cheap housing, decent entertainment and 4 months of non-winter. On second thought......

Still waiting on FA. They are evidently craftsman of the highest order in the FA office at UR. They are so concerned with putting out impeccable packages where nary an 'i' remains undotted nor unduly askew that it takes months where others would take days. It is an art, and true art cannot be rushed. At least that is my assumption, because were I to be somehow proven otherwise, I might have to consider seriously the idea that the office is filled with scarcely sentient simians of the lowest order banging away close fisted on antiquated typewriters trying to defy the odds and put together a comprehensible FA package. Maybe I should send some bananas just in case.