The rant I'm too frustrated not to post today

Bye bye love, I'll catch you later

Got a left foot down on my accelerator

and the rearview mirror torn off

I ain't never lookin' back and that's a fact

 - JoDee Messina 

I love the morning light in my parent’s house.  Admittedly I don’t see it all that often; I’m up quite a bit before the sun on weekdays and it takes a lot more than pretty light to pry me out of bed before sunrise on the weekends these days. But that’s neither here nor there.   All of the living areas and most of the windows in the house face west, and so the morning light in the family room is clear, diffuse and greenish-blue. I think that it’s the trees.

It's my last weekend in the house and I got up early this morning to lay on the couch with a cup of coffee while the sun came up.  I will miss the windows and the trees, especially early in the mornings.  It’s okay though because I know that I’ll  get to see it again.

I am excited to move; to quote my Mama: forward ever, backwards never.  And there’s so much going forward that I am excited for: to live with my Meredith again (let’s hope that we don’t drive John nuts), to be closer to school and to have roomies again.  I have loved (loved!) living alone but I’ll admit that it probably won't hurt for me to have just a little bit less solitude in my life.  It also doesn’t hurt that future roomies are both gigantic smartie pants’, can you say free homework help? J

Still, as I start packing and getting ready for the move I can’t help but remember moving in. There’s a certain amount of sadness in it, there always is when dealing with extinct dreams.  I am relieved though to find that there's only a little bit of sadness, I finished mourning the death of the hopes and dreams went with that relationship a long time ago.  The more I pack, the more I find that while I am not sad, I am pissed.  My Mama has always been pretty strongly opposed to that word.  Adverse enough that I’ve spent the last twenty minutes trying to come up with less vulgar, equally as accurate word and I have failed.  I can’t avoid it: I am pissed.  

It doesn’t escape me though that when he packed up and went away, I was here helping him.  I made it easy for him to leave yet here I am, packing and dealing with the things that he left behind. What's left behind you ask? Almost every single gift I gave him over our five year relationship.  Nothing quite like packing to know exactly what was left.  I get not wanting to keep things but have the decency to take it with you and dispose of it yourself.  

More than anything though, I’m pissed that I wasn’t smart enough to charge him rent.