Sitting waiting wishing

I am, as Chris so elegantly puts it, caca in my pantalon about leaving. In all honesty it's getting a bit dull waiting for the 25th to come round. Went to Engy last weekend for The Return, Aimee's baptism, and to see all the lovely uni friends and say au revoir, which was all very nice. T.C. and I made predictions about how everyone would be après the year abroad (the most interesting being that Rachel would be black, and Megz, the whore of Western Europe) and had surreal conversations about dwarves. Dug out 'the list' from first year and relived all the comedy moments, which weren't as comedy as they seemed at the time.

Said all the goodbyes I can muster and received a hundred goodbye hugs and now just want to get out there and face it. Have been at home the past 4 days and not having had anything to do except sit on my arse and think, the more things I get scared about and the less capable of speaking French I feel. Was in my room earlier packing and listening to the OC mix 1 - bad idea as said music is pure embodiment of angsty teenage drama and made me feel like I wanted to drown sorrows in tequila, Marissa-style.

Got a call from Rose today- our landlord, quel idiot, has very helpfully 'forgotten' that we were supposed to move in on monday and so we have to spend the first night in a hotel. Also we have no bed linen (though hopefully, beds? it was unfurnished when I saw the house) and no 'vaiselle', which I think means plates and not washing machine, but who can tell!

I hate this waiting game.