Gettin’ all emo(tional) in my old age…

Remember how I said a few blogs ago that I feel different about going overseas this time around? Well this is true, for sure, in terms of the ‘red tape’ I discussed, but I’m also keenly aware of myself trying to push away thoughts of leaving my animals behind. I won’t see them until Christmas, and if I think about that too much, I am dangerously close to the edge of weepiness. I am already squeezing my dogs a little tighter, walking them a little longer, and pretty well letting them do whatever the hell they want.
A note of good news is that I have found a home for Noel, my gerbil. This was an area of deep concern for me, because I take extravagant care of my little mouse. I make her food from scratch, I scrub her little terrarium condo religiously, and I make sure she gets to run free in a large room for at least an hour a day. I found a kindred spirit in the daughter of our longtime family friends, the Dunns. Miss Emily is a fellow animal lover, and pocket pet enthusiast. I can’t believe it took me so long to remember her tender care for Peanut Butter, her hamster (since passed…gods bless him) as I rocked back and forth on my bed, chewing my nails down to the nub and wondering what in the far-qua-harson I was going to do about my little kangaroo. Thanks, Em. You are a golden, shiny star that soars through the night trailing silver gemdrops and rubies as you fly. You are that awesome. No joke.

So now that I can envision Noel safely ensconced in her new home in Edmonton, it leaves me time to turn my mind to all the other things I have to get sad about. And I am a fucking PRO at this, ladies and beasts. Having always had a flair for the dramatic, I am able to become uber-sensitive quite easily (notes: serves one best in Musical Theatre…not in real life), and having a soft spot for all creatures living, it is not uncommon for me to start to anthropomorphize everything in sight, designate it a soul, and start to get teary about leaving it.

“Oh god. I am so seriously going to miss my bookshelf. I hope my bookshelf knows that I’m its owner, and I love it, and I’m not going forever, I’ll be back to be with it someday.”

“I really should leave my dark blue Bench hoodie here. I don’t want it to get lonely. I mean, it’s been hanging in Mom’s closet for 9 months. Would it really be fair to take it away from the blouses that live on either side of it? No. That’s just fucking selfish.”

Is this normal? I doubt it. I mean, it’s something I’ve lived with forever, but I recognize that it’s probably a species of low degree insanity. I often see small children doing this, and it makes sense to me. That can’t be good. Children eat their own boogers. But when I’m teaching them, and they look at me with that degree of seriousness and say, “I have to have this pencil sit next to this one because they’re  best friends”, I don’t smile with false understanding and relay the adorable childhood antics later that night at the dinner table. I get it. It makes sense to me. Why the hell shouldn’t the pencil have a friend? Who am I to wreck such a beautiful relationship? And who am I to bring my hoodie to Kuwait anyway when it obviously would tell me, if it could speak, that it would rather stay home with my mom’s clothes. These are the teary, deep and serious issues I have to deal with every day.

When I’m not entertaining my insanity, I focus on normal things to get sad about. I was at the movies with my friend Angela the other week, and this preview for a movie I would want to see came on the screen. “I can’t wait to see that!” I exclaimed, only to suddenly realize that it comes out in October, and I won’t be here to see it.
I know what you’re thinking. There are movie theaters in Kuwait. I can go see it there. Quit bellyaching. And you’re right, with your cute, “all theaters are like Canadian movie theaters” mindset. The thing is, I’ve looked into this. I’ve checked it out. Apparently, Middle Eastern movie theaters are designed after North American theme parks, so the standards for quietness is about as enforceable as a ‘no cell phone’ policy. I could technically see the movies, but I wouldn’t hear them. I suppose that if I was one of those eternal optimists, I could argue that it would be totally AWESOME to go and experience this–it would be like a moving talkie from the early part of the century and I LOVE period pieces and 30s literature so why wouldn’t I like this? But that sort of forced gusto wanes quickly. No…I will experience many cool things in Kuwait, different things, but some things were meant to stay in Canada. I fear I will have to watch them when I get home.

So dogs, gerbils, inanimate objects….I’m really going through my mental checklist to make sure I am getting weepy about every possible item I can. Right now I’m getting ready to take my amazing dogs on a walk. One of the last as the days dwindle down to departure.

I am also celebrating everything. I am rejoicing in the little things; readily available almond and soy milk, wearing whatever the hell I want (dressing like a heathen, in other words), being with friends and family, and just being at home. I think if I wasn’t getting a little sad at leaving it all, it would mean I had nothing worth leaving in the first place. I think my reactions prove that it’s quite the opposite that’s true: I am leaving the best.

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