In case anyone is curious... my life weighs in at approximately 120 pounds (not including carry-ons) and consists of clothes, cels, foxes, and a final category best described as miscellanous. The part of my life that I carry with me consists of over 350 CDs/DVDs, nail polish I never really use, a particularly expensive antique fox figurine and Philip's coffee mugs. And of course there's the passport with a marriage visa inside that says I'm a man, and a one way plane ticket to Manchester.

It is sort of a wierd feeling knowing that tonight is my last night in this country as a resident. It's a feeling of... nothing. I don't particularly feel anything tonight. I guess I don't feel that it is really that big of a deal or really that far. Everyone keeps telling me that they guess they'll never really see me again, but they never saw me very much anyways. (I'm something of a hermit when left to my own devices.)

The one thing I am quite emotionally struck by this evening as I spend these last moments with my beloved basset hound is that the saddest thing about pets is watching them grow old. Its in seeing how grey their muzzle has become or seeing that sheen in their eyes that tells you they're going blind. So as I cuddled up with Jasmine, I started to cry because she's getting so old. So many things I could be upset about on the eve of my departure and I'm crying because my dog is getting old. I wish I knew what that said about me, but I don't have a clue.