All the forms
are filled in.
is sorted out.
has been told (at gunpoint
) that I am now a student
I haven't yet quite done saying goodbye, but the excitement of getting the hell out of the house rides roughshod over the knowledge that I shall from now on be a lone ranger, different location, different bloody country, different best friends, different or new everything, and so on...
Best of all, I have gone to IKEA and filled my shopping bag(s) with all sorts of goodies such as dishes and pans, and an ultra sophisticated brand new blue carrot-peeler! Now... why oh why did I need to throw such an item into the basket? Were the pink/orange/yellow psychedelic bed linen, and the spaghetti bowl not enough? Have I ever used a carrot peeler in my entire life? In fact, have I ever eaten a carrot?
A sense of security (not to mention pride of ownership) enters the deal, because all of a sudden, reality hits you like a ton of bricks:
You're truly (with a smile) moving out of your home for good!
No more "mummy, I need clean knickers" or "daddy, please can I use the car" and "I promise I won't park it into the wall this time".
No, you're out of the equation!
Little sister is already shredding your posters (at night whilst you're mulching in front of X-files reruns), and deciding what colour to paint the walls.
Little brother abruptly seems a lot happier with life in general and actually says please and thank you... *shudder*
Hence, the necessity of a carrot peeler (just in case, you hadn't realised what the hell I'm getting at). After all, there's one in the family kitchen and now that my meals won't miraculously appear on the table every night, I suppose its time to get my act together, smile brightly at the devastated remains of my "Oh darling, please look after yourself!" mother, gather up my IKEA bags, and go away to get an edukashon.
which was nice