Yikes!

You never know how much crap you own until you try and squeeze said crap into two suitcases and lug them across the Atlantic Ocean. Granted I haven't even started packing my two (measly) bags yet, but I know for a fact that my constant "I'm really not planning on taking too much" will turn into me sobbing on the spare room floor trying to cram one more pair of socks in my bright orange bag.

A heightened sense of panic has gripped me ever since I realized that I don't have a month left to get my shit together, but only three weeks. this may sound like loads of time to you, but to me it means I have to cram in visits with friends, time with family, shopping for essentials, trying to save money, catching up on every doctors/dentist appointment I've ever "forgotten" about over the past six months and generally get my life in order. I have three lists pinned to my wardrobe doors and about half the lines are still waiting to be checked off!

In our spare room is a pile of clothes, jackets, boots and files. Part of the problem is that I also have a bag already in the UK, so I'm going to have to cull some of the stuff I do eventually take over. Will it all end up in Newcastle? who knows.

I've kind of lost my train of thought...I suppose I could just sum up by saying that I am so impossibly stressed that I'm having trouble enjoying the few remaining weeks I do have here. I mean, have you ever felt like you head will explode? That's kind of how I feel ALL THE TIME at the moment. I keep gazing off into space and mentally going through my ""to do" list. I'm sure I must look quite vacant now that I think about it.

I know all of this will be worth it in the end (I hope) but it's the getting to that point that is turning me into a nightmare. So please, if you come across a woman looking vacant with wild red hair who keeps babbling about socks and suitcases, be kind and tell her everything is going to be all right. That's all she needs.