Back at the end of September, I woke up one morning and imagined that it was the day I was leaving for New York. I was gripped by such a panic that I had to take a Xanax. For a moment, I couldn't actually believe that I would welcome the day it came time to leave.
But, here I am, in Winchester once again (oddly enough, in the same hotel room I was in when I came back from Stockbridge), with a car packed full of random shit that can't be shipped. And I feel okay. I'm nervous. My mother cried this morning before I left, which of course made me cry.
I'm nervous, but I'm not freaking out. To me, this is like going off to college, or Williamstown, or BTF. Another adventure, and it would be odd if I wasn't nervous before the start of an adventure.
So, I'm going to relax in my hotel room and watch some Hell's Kitchen.
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