Sometime in the next week, I’ll be finding a place to live in Des Moines and moving there before starting my new job next Monday. This post could be filled with the tribulations of packing and finding someone to take over my lease, but that’s been done. It’s oddly similar to what I blogged about exclusively about three months ago. I could wax poetic about how if you’re unhappy in your life, you should just change it, though I’m not sure I yet qualify as the grand authority on that. I am over the moon about my new position, though if it hadn’t have happened to come available when it did, I’d probably still be at my desk job, secretly loathing my life and this city. That brings me to something I think about often, how I could just speak honestly about how much I don’t love Chicago. I don’t hate it, but I’ve never liked it. There are many cities in this world to which I could give my heart, but The Windy City has never been one of them. I realize this is blasphemy to the dozens of people I personally know who would bleed for their city. That’s great for them, it’s just not for me. I’m certainly not running back to Des Moines because that’s a place I couldn’t live without, but having been away for a bit does make me appreciate it a heck of a lot more than when I had just graduated.

So, for now, I’ve got nothing. This might also very, very possibly be my last post here & I might just switch on over to BrittneyW.com. I probably won’t post any more frequently, but what’s the point of owning your domain name if you’re not using it? (Now the link isn’t working, great. Well, it exists.)

And now, I leave you with this little gem: What To Do When You Disagree With a Blog Post. It’s hilarious and speaks to everyone who has at least one blog troll (their word, not mine, but I kind of like it.) See you all back in the 515!

Alive? Check.

Functioning? Barely.

Hugest, weirdest, craziest, most stressful time in my life? You betcha.

…and I still haven’t even moved into my apartment yet! Soon, though. My name is officially on a lease– I’ll be in before next week after some maintenance is finished.

I’ve essentially become best friends with NPH’s family. The only part I don’t like is how long of a commute it is from their suburb into the very touristy part of the city where I work.

Until I move, my life is a cycle of getting up super early, riding the train, working, riding the train, eating, sleeping, repeat. I know, so glamorous. Afterward, it will be less riding the train and more… TV watching? Far too exciting to handle, beware.

(For those of you stopping by just to check in on the state of NPH’s health, he is in fact still alive and doing well. Now he just has a really, really annoying cough that makes me want to throw the dog at him whenever he starts a-hackin’.)

The first week of classes went by pretty unremarkably (Wordpress is still me that’s spelled wrong, but Dictionary.com says it’s an acceptable adverb. Huh.) though I did get to do the add/drop slip dance on Thursday because one of my classes was already unbearable and not looking to get much better. I realize I could have just sucked it up, but it’s my last semester here, people; my lack of interest in the subject combined with the workload was setting me up for quite the uphill battle I had no intention of attempting. TURNS OUT the boyfriend and I have two classes together, one is a really fun elective that nearly everyone I know is taking, the other is a political science class from a professor I enjoyed last semester. At first I think we (ok, probably just he) were like ehhhh that’s weird, but it’s really not that bad. It’s not like we can sit there and gab like besties– we’re in a class like any other, it just turns out I might get walked home by the person sitting next to me afterward. I feel this will also work hugely to my advantage around test time because he’s a diligent student who does the readings, whereas I spend my time “studying” harassing him for pretzel M&Ms and checking out job opportunities in Boston.

Speaking of moving far away places, Roomie Lauren has some amazing opportunity to move to Dublin because she rocks socks at well, everything, and last night I was all omgI’llcomewithyou and we’ll make a fabulous life in Ireland together! Because ok, we may have been at a bar. We shook on and it were dreaming of Irishmen and lush hills of Guinness all evening, so this morning I decided to Google “moving to Dublin.” Turns out Dublin’s one of the most expensive cities in the world, and it’s not all that easy to just up and move to another country. She’s still sleeping so I won’t interrupt her clover-filled dreams, but I’m probably going to stay Stateside, at least for a while until I can afford more than a shack and a half-passable work visa.

Oh and shout-out to my family already in Hawaii and those will be soon arriving for a wedding!!

My last night in IC was better than anything I could have asked for or Facebook event-ed for myself.  Magically I saw almost everyone I would have wanted to hang out with at some point in the evening which was NEAT-O.  Lots of people hugged me, and I hugged them back (I know, you’re shocked– this whole maturing thing is weirding me out, too.)  Today I had leftover pokey sticks for breakfast and Hy-Vee chinese for lunch.  The stabbing stomach pains that have resulted do not want dinner, just water and sleep.  And my THROAT hurts like a SONUVABITCH, so that’s cool– getting sick for Christmas.

Things I don’t want to talk about: saying good-bye to NPH.  Can I just say that I never cried in front of anyone during this whole going away process?  I’m quite proud of myself for that.  I mean, my car might be a different story and other drivers on I-80 tonight were probably extemely concerned that I was going to careen through a guardrail at any point, but STILL– the actual parting of ways was not that bad.  The resulting wallowing is pretty painful, at least for those around me anyway.  It’s not like anyone’s dying or anything, and I’m starting to get REALLYEXCITED for Germany, but separation anxiety is still no picnic.

Things I would love to talk about: the scholarship letter I got in the mail today.  Woo-hoo, journalism school!  By some weird miracle I applied  on time and the powers that be decided my grades and stroke-of-luck writing samples warranted a big ol’ check to help pay for college.  That’s pretty boss.

I’m home, my parents are off at a Christmas party, I’M GOING TO BED.  It’s 7 pm.  Wow, Brittney.  Your life is too.much.fun. to handle.  Hey– this little illness festering away in my nodes isn’t going to go away by itself.  Also, when one is mourning the loss of their partner in crime for five months, sleep is a much more attractive option than watching I Love You, Man with your brother because it would just remind you of the Paul Rudd poster hanging over the TV in 713’s living room and then all of a sudden you’d be bawling again and calling Kayla who would get really concerned that something actual tears-worthy had happened but you’d have to explain to her that it’s just because you already miss NPH and she’d be all “Good God woman get ahold of yourself.”  I mean, that didn’t happen.  I’m just saying… I could see a scenario like it in which sleep is always the better option.