“Hoarders” tape

Very, very soon I will be solo flying internationally for my anticipated semester abroad at The University of Limerick, Ireland (insert: gasp and applause).  My sure to-be claustrophobic flight is booked.  Mindless, endless paperwork diligently filled out numerous times for the wonderful International Center (shoutout to Addis, and my professors, especially Becky, for helping me to continue toeing the line of sanity throughout that process) and Academic Affairs, along with every other damn department of Springfield College that needed their own original copies (because scanning student documents into a digital file hasn’t crossed anyone’s mind.  But I digress…).  Everything remotely Irish ranging from Lucky Charms cereal, to the romantic movie P.S. I Love You, to the Rebellion of 1916, to Guinness has been researched for months.  My passport peeks out of my “Important Documents” folder pocket, the covers of travel guidebooks glitter with green four-leaf clovers and ginger-bearded leprechauns.  Piles upon piles, upon piles (upon piles) of clothes, papers, books, school supplies, various trash, and the occasional half-eaten turkey and cheese sandwich have been strewn about my bedroom on all available surfaces (including, but not limited to: my floor, bureau, desk, floor, window sills, chairs, closet, bed, floor, etc., etc.) for the greater part of the summer.  This obstacle-course-like arrangement has been much to the inconvenience of my own, along with friend’s and family’s toes that have been insufferably stubbed.  I had to surreptitiously remove quite a few home video tapes from my mailbox addressed to the popular show “Hoarders”, much to my own humiliation.  Mom is still confused why she/me never got a call-back.  When I’m gone, my room clean, and their bruises and broken foot fingers heal, they’ll miss me.


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