Putting Off Leaving

I should really be packing.

This Academic year is at its end and I'd decided that once the farewell barbeque was out of the way I might as well travel back to my spiritual point of origin. However, since no relative of mine lives in the house I grew up in anymore, I pretty much revolve around it, randomly hitting various other locations during orbit. For the most part, my summer will consist of me staying in a multitude of spare rooms with sporadic access to the internet whilst wearing clothes out of a small suitcase and working in customer service. Call me old fashioned, but I much prefer it when summer is a time for relaxing.

In all fairness, that's pretty much what I've been doing here and, I suppose, why I've subconsciously been putting off leaving in an effort to try and stay. Sure, I had various University-related engagements to tend to, but now that they're all over until the next lot start up again in mid-September, I've relied on excuses to keep me fixed in place; yesterday's barbeque was pretty much the main, and quite frankly, only one I had. Today has an air of "morning-after cleaning" about it after the bowls of half-eaten cold pastas and potato salads litter the tables, untouched trifles still sit in under blankets of cling film, plates and rubbish are overflowing from the sink and the bin in equal measure and there's a whiff of charcoal smoke still laced into last night's clothes and the wooden coffee table we naturally assumed it would be okay to put the disposable barbeques on provided we put a bit of concrete down first. Regrettably, we have no spare concrete and resorted to using a thin piece of slate. As a result, the wooden table proudly displays two black rectangles as a loving reminder of the exact position on the table where we once decided to have barbeques.

Naturally, I've not bothered to begin with the cleaning ceremony, although at the time of typing I can hear movement in the kitchen coming from my housemates. This stirs within me two thoughts: 1) I feel guilty for sitting here and not helping to clean up, and 2) I hope they save some of that leftover food as I have nothing else in the house and plan on gorging on such food for the next two days. Also the fact that I'm not cleaning the kitchen reminds me of the fact that I'm not cleaning this room, in turn remnding me that I'm not packing up the essentials for my proposed day of travelling tomorrow.

Incidentally, tomorrow marks a special occasion where I am. The almighty, hallowed bit of fire that was ignited by the sun itself in Olympia, Greece, smuggled through air-traffic customs and passed along by various people by way of golden sticks will come through the section of country which happens to exist just down the road from where I'm currently sat... at 8am. I didn't plan to stick around to see it but it's funny when shit comes together like that. Later on during the day I can then make the various train journeys from where I am now to where I'm going to spend the summer months. Therefore, that gives me some 20 hours or so to finally sort out the room, decide what to take on my travels and what to neglect for three months, polish off the last of the leftovers, clean up the rest of that kitchen mess and, if possible, find some time in which to sleep. Instead, I've been typing letters into a machine to form words that few people will ever read.

Like I said, I should really be packing.