"And my dad paints the house different colours!" (Victoria)

Tomorrow I’m moving, so today I decided to spend the day doing things I love. Then I realised that I a) still have some packing to do b) have packed up my books and movies so I can’t use them and c) am far too pathetically sentimental for the music etc I can listen to to make me happy.

So now I’m listen to the wonderful album version of Jonas Brothers’ Lovebug (Hey Joe’s a girl!) and staring nostalgically at my bedroom.

The thing is, I’m not nervous about Melbourne. I know the city (sufficiently enough) I know the uni, I know at least a few people and how different will it really be to sit in my bedroom on the internet there than it is here? The only time I ever remember getting homesick was two years ago when I was house-sitting for my sister on the other side of (our rather small) town. The house was full of locusts (there was a legit plague through town), the kitten was insane and I was sick. Like, aching and cold and hot and exhausted, the kind of sick where you just want a hug and a cry. I did the crying alright. But (knock on wood) I feel healthy enough at the moment, so what’s there to be nervous about?

Although, it is weird to think that next time I blog it’ll be from my new room.