... Or so was the subject line of an e-mail I sent out to a few compatriots yesterday. Elephant on chest, etc., etc. Sigh.
Part of the difficulty, I think, is trying to sort out what really happened to me while I was in Vermont, and how I feel about it, versus what is just romantic and attractive when compared to the mundane business of daily living. In Vermont, my biggest decision was what kind of beer to buy, whether or not I wanted to jump in the river or stay on the banks, move the comma in the last stanza or keep it where it is. Now I am back, and the car needs lug nuts and my teeth cleaning, and we must find a new apartment and reserve a moving truck.
But soon there is a roadtrip to Green Bay, and a flight to North Carolina. It is hard to feel too sorry for myself. Or, as I also wrote yesterday, I mean, it's a hard life I have, right? All the traveling and seeing friends. Somebody please smack me in the face and tell me to get a grip on my first-world problems.
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